


Oblivion Turned To Love

by booklover_5317, Lola_hyuga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Drarry, F/F, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Homosexuality, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booklover_5317/pseuds/booklover_5317, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lola_hyuga/pseuds/Lola_hyuga
Summary: Harry saves the world, he was the chosen one, after all. But if it weren’t for Hermione and Ron, maybe he wouldn’t had been able to keep going by himself. After all, we all know Harry Potter is the most oblivious person in all the world (wizard and muggle) and, from what MsGranger told us “he wouldn’t be able to take a hint even if it was glued to his eyelids”.I guess Malfoy’s attempts to get Potter’s attention will not be enough. Thanks Merlin Ron knows what a Ship is! And this one is his OTP!





	1. New Hogwarts Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [booklover_5317](https://archiveofourown.org/users/booklover_5317/gifts).



Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

“I mean, seriously, how can someone be so stubborn?  
How can I have chosen the most stubborn person in the whole bloody wizarding world?  
‘Now I am studying, Ronald’, ‘More five minutes to finish this chapter, Ron,’ ‘Ginny and I this , Ginny and I that’ she can’t even spend bloody five minutes with me and—“

And Harry heard his best friend go on and on about how stubborn his girlfriend was, as if Harry didn’t know about it already.

“—I mean, they spend so much time together, one would think Hermione and I hadn’t kissed in the war. Honestly, Harry, how do you and Ginny do it?” He finally stopped, taking long deep breaths after talking for almost ten minutes straight; which, by the way, made Harry look lots of times to his right, as if there was a camera — just like in that show Hermione had showed them, to explain to Ron and Ginny what a television was— and roll his eyes.

“We don’t.” Stated Harry, siping his tea.

“But—wait—what?” The red headed asked with wide eyes.

“We don’t. Yesterday, I went to their room while Hermione was in the bathroom to have a moment alone with my girlfriend and, well, now she’s my ex-girlfriend...” he said, holding his face with one hand while drinking his tea in one go.

“That’s it? She broke up with you without an explanation? I’m going to give her a—“

But Harry grabbed his arm before he could as much as get up from the bed they were sitting in.

He shook his head and explained everything:

“Ginny’s been, er... acting differently, ya’know? Since we came back here, to the burrow, she’s been distant. Always seeking support in Hermione. When I went to their room, Ginny seemed really confused. Her hair was all messy, let me tell you!  
When I entered she seemed really scared and was all sweaty. She tried to tell me something that seemed important, but was struggling so much that the only thing that left her mouth was ‘I wanna break up’. After that I left and we haven’t talked since.”

“Oh, Harry... I, uh, this is awkward... you know she being my sister and, uh...I’m—“

“It’s alright.” Said the raven headed boy, “we wouldn’t get anywhere, anyway...” he shook his head and letting Ron see the blush in his friends’ cheeks. What wasn’t Harry telling him? “What I’m trying to say is... Ron, if you and Hermione are meant to be, you’ll be, but if you can’t... you can’t be with her in that way.. I, uh, I hope we can still be friends after—“

And then the door of their room opened and George stepped in, with a huge smile on his face.

And Ronald thanked for that, because he was sure he was going to stab himself in the ears if Harry kept talking about what he did—in this case in particular, what he couldn’t do—with Ginny— his bloody younger sister.

“You owe me fifteen galleons!” George told his brother.

“What—why?” He cried.

“Do you remember our bet after your third year when—“

“Oh. My. Merlin!” The ginger yelled. “Percy was adopted?!”

“Yeah— wait, NO! That bet was in second year and I betted twenty galleons! The one where I told you Ginny played in the other team and—“

“Hold up!” Said Harry, since they had forgotten he was in there. “Ginny is a LESBIAN?!”

“Oh, hey, ‘Harry.” Said George, noticing the boy with green eyes for the first time that morning “so, I was walking —“

**

George was walking down the stairs to go the kitchen and, on the way, he passed the big window in the hall.

As he looked outside the window, appreciating the colours the sky got in the morning , he noticed that there was a head of messy ginger hair in the grass and went to see why Ginny was up so early.

When he looked got outside, passed some trees and reached the grass where he’d spotted his sister’s hair, George saw Ginny standing over a blonde girl, supporting her weight with her hands beside the blonde headed’s head.

He stood there awkwardly for almost a full minute, before he heard them whispering to each other and giggling—GIGGLING! Ginny Weasley didn’t GIGGLE!

“Uh, guys?!” Asked George, alarmed, he always knew when he was about to win a bet, and this was one of those times.

Ginny jumped and Ron looked up, both blushing; with that look Teddy makes when someone catches him stealing a cookie in their faces.

“This—this isn’t—we uh—“

“Hi, George!” Breathed the girl he now recognized as Luna Lovegood—his sister’s ‘friend’. He remembered now why they called her Loony, since she was always fantasizing and dreaming with her eyes still open.

“This is not what it looks like!” Exclamimed Ginny, with her face redder than her hair.

“Yeah, of course—“ said George with a smirk “—just don’t forget that I lost an ear, not an eye.”

“We can —“

“Explain?” George finished Ginny’s sentence. “Go on then, I’d like to know why you were an inch from snogging in the garden and why you, dear innocent Ginevra, are blushing so much..” the ginger finished with his best imitation of Molly.

George knew, of course, that Ginny and Luna played in the wrong team since the beginning of Hogwarts. He just wanted to torture his sister a bit.

He had seen Ginny stare at the Quidditch captain’s arse —Angelina Jonson, who he now dated— and he knew his sister better than any of the other brothers, she started to share her secrets with him after the diary incident.

He and Fred made that bet with Ronald exactly because of these facts.

Fred... he’d be so proud of his twin brother...

**

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Said Harry. “So, they didn’t admit it? You have NOT won yet! Ginny could just.. I don’t know but—“

Another person entering the room made him stop mid-sentence. Hermione approached them, sat beside Ron and grinned widely while holding two letters for them to read.

“It’s from Hogwarts!” She exclaimed. “There’s one for me, for you, Harry, Ron and for the two giggling girls down there.”

She gave Ron and Harry theirs and, after finishing reading it, they both looked at each other and screamed at the same time. “We are going to need formal clothing?!”

Hermione just sighed and nodded. She was extremely happy, because she and Ginny were now on their last year, they’d be able to spend a LOT more time with each other, since they will share a room this year in the Gryffindor tower and everything.

George— who was now trying to cut his only ear with his fingernails because of the boys’ screams— smiled and congratulated them, he got up and went downstairs to warn his mother that the girls, Harry and Ron had to go buy school supplies.

**

Once they were in Diagon Ally, Hermione was the first to run to a book shop. They reluctantly followed her and searched for every book needed.

Ron groaned when he saw his girlfriend run her hand through the cover of every book she thought interesting and rolled his eyes when she grabbed and opened one; but a smile crept in his lips when she smelled it and her expression turned from excitement to pure adoration.

He must have looked at her like an idiot for Merlin knows how long before something caught his eye.

He looked around and saw, through the shop’s window, two heads of silver blond hair passing.

He betted it was Malfoy and his mother, Narcissa, since the blond would probably go back to Hogwarts to torment them.

He shook the thought out of his head and searched for the supplies he needed.

**

Harry was late, the others had already left for the platform, but he had stayed behind because he’d woken up later than planned and was now rushing to get ready.

Harry apparated in the train station—he was now of age and had already passed his apparition test with Hermione’s help, since she made it on her first attempt and he had needed lots of practice, but, anyway, who’d fail the chosen one?

When he entered the train, he searched for a red head—Ron or Ginny’s— to share a compartment with, supposing they’d be with ‘Mione already.

He passed many compartments: Luna’s (which she was sharing with Neville and some first and second years, who were asking for autographs and demonstrations of magic); one where professor McGonagall was yelling at some third years; and last, but not least annoying, Malfoy’s.

He only recognized it as his because he saw the unmistakable silvery blond hair. He didn’t even notice if he was alone, if he was with his pugfaced cow of a girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, or if he was even alive. Honestly, he didn’t care at all. And that was what he expected him to do this year as well, don’t care and let them be.

He admitted that he pitied Malfoy for what he’d been through—he’d even testified in the blond’s favour in the Malfoy Family’s trial—but everyone from both sides had suffered and lost something during and after the war.

The best Harry could do for Malfoy, he decided, was leave him alone.

When he finally found a compartment with one red head, a brown bushy one and a pink one, he entered— ‘wait... pink hair?’  
He asked himself.

The first thing he heard while entering was a really high pitched scream, which ended up being Ron’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, with his voice raised and his hands covering his ears. When he looked around a bit more intently, he noticed a couple of boogied with the shape of bats flying around. “Why have you been hexing your brother, Ginny?”

“He called me fat!” She yelled, glaring daggers at her pink headed brother.

“For the last time, I didn’t call you FAT!” He yelled back, trying to intimidate her and only getting a wand pointed at his neck. He gulped. “I only said you should stop eating so much candy!”

“And who are you to tell me what to do, Ronald? If I want to put a fucking chocolate frog in my mouth, I will; just like Hermione will put your dick into hers!” And with that, she stole his last chocolate frog (which had an extremely rare card glued to its leg) and left the compartment.

“Wh-What was that about?” Asked Harry.

“I bet she’s on her period...” said Ron under his breath.

And that was the last straw:

Hermione glared at him, sent him the same hex Malfoy had sent her all those years ago, which made his teeth grow and grow and left the compartment as well, seeking for her friend.

Harry sighed and helped his friend take care of his teeth, warning him to be careful with what he said to a woman when she was in a bad mood, specially women as powerful and dangerous as Ginny and Hermione.

“She’s crazy, Harry, mate! I’m telling you! She started to get angry when I mentioned Luna and I guess she went over the edge because of the bloody frog! Merlin” he whispered under his breath, “I wanted that card!”

***

Hermione looked around the great hall.

Hogwarts!

This was her home. Even if she loved spending time with her parents, or at the burrow with the Weasleys and Harry, Hogwarts was the place that made her who she is today. Where she learned about magic, potions, herbology and about life in all the adventures with her friends.

She sat down at the Gryffindor table, next to Ginny and in front of Harry and Ron, who was ignoring her for what happened in the train.

The first years entered the Great Hall, a bit soaked, and looked at McGonnagal nervously, while she held the hat. The hat’s mouth opened and started singing:

Let me tell you  
About the four minds  
Who once created me:  
Ravenclaw,  
with her brain  
Was reading a book  
Almost lost the train  
But please don’t look  
At her with disdain!  
Hufflepuff,  
who took good care  
Of those who worked hard  
Her arms always open  
For those with the biggest heart!  
Gryffindor,  
The reason for our rule  
He tickled a sleeping dragon  
He was daring  
Not a fool!  
Slytherin,  
Last but not least  
Everyone thought he was bad  
But true love showed him  
That it didn’t matter  
The type of blood he had!  
And,  
Let me warn you,  
Students this year  
Of the bad upon us all!  
It’s not the blood anymore  
But the ones judged  
Down the hall.  
They might have a mark  
But now it means nothing  
They didn’t choose the dark.  
This reputation isn’t the one  
That they chose  
And it is painting them all  
To be foes.  
So love each other  
Because decades ago  
The green loved  
The red  
If you believe the opposite  
You’ve been truly  
Mislead.

After the sorting hat sang its song and sorted the very first year— there weren’t a lot this year, but she was sure that they were all special in their own way—and McGonagall’s speech, the feast began.

“What do you think the sorting hat is trying to warn us about, this year, ‘Mione?!” Asked Harry, oblivious as always to what those warnings meant.

“It said that, after the war, the problem will not be the difference between our blood, but the side you chose on the battle...” she explained, but trailed off as she noticed, at the table on the other side of the wall, a pair of silver orbs glaring at the back of Harry’s head.

The raven haired boy nodded and kept eating, but she was sure he didn’t get a thing of what she had explained.

She shrugged and kept eating, trying to ignore Ron’s confused glances as to where she had been looking at.

If they didn’t stop with this nonsense this year, she would see her oblivious ship sink.

Another sigh escaped her lips as dinner finished and they all went to their rooms, maybe she’d be able to talk to Ginny about a better way to make the boys understand.

It would be nearly impossible— because they wouldn’t notice a hint even if glued to their eyelids—she knew, but what else did she have to do this year (since she had already read every text book) without someone threatening their lives?


	2. I ship them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron is bored. What’s better than Quidditch and a Romance between his best mate and their enemy to end this boringness.

‘How can a day be so BLOODY boring!’ Ron thought.

It was the first day of classes and now, at the first class they had after lunch— potions— Ron was trying to stay awake while Slughorn kept talking about— about an Aswinder’s egg being the first ingredient in— in some potion and— and it had some kind of rose thorn and— and other stuff he couldn’t place.

He would never admit it, but he missed Snape, at least he could be entertained with someone yelling at him for being—

And Ron kept his eyes closed, half dreaming half awake, when a voice called his name, “Ron...” whispered Hermione— yes, the classroom smelled like Hermione. Chocolate and sweet strawberries.

This morning they had had care for magical creatures with Hagrid, and the Hufflepuffs, where they simply stood by the lake and searched for the giant skid which— surprise, surprised— didn’t appear. 

Then, they had transfiguration with McGonagall and the Slytherins. It was probably one of the worst classes ever, since he was so distracted he turned his book into a ferret and had to chase it around the classroom. 

Some classes with the Ravenclaws later, during lunch, he had to listen to Harry go on and on about some plan he thought Malfoy had and blah blah blah, again!!

“He didn’t laugh with the rest of the Slytherins when your spell went wrong” Harry complained.

“I bet he’s so occupied plotting something to ruin our reputation and make everyone hate us that he doesn’t even have time to put gel in his hair!” He kept talking.

Ron tried to ignore, but it was pretty difficult. He had been so glad when Harry had said he’d have a calm school year and wouldn’t seek trouble or fights with anyone. But, of course, just like his New Year’s revolution, that promise was broken only on the second day.

The good part of the day was that, during lunch, he and Hermione has talked and she swore she’d spend more time with him. And she always kept her promises!

Now he was here, missing the old “two-hundred-points-from-Gryffindor”Snape. At least in his classes the hatred would make the ginger feel alive. He really hated having potions with the Slytherins.

And then Ron remembered: they had their first Quidditch practice today! 

That was enough to keep his eyes open while he was daydreaming about the movement he practiced during the summer. 

If he remembered correctly, they’d play with the Ravenclaws first and, if they won, they’d play with the winner of the Hufflepuff vs Slytherin match. He wouldn’t lose to the Slytherins—if they reached the finals—that was for sure.

A sudden angry voice brought him back to life.

“—MrWeasley?” He looked up and saw Slughorn looking at him and pointing at the boiling cauldron in his desk, which was releasing a smoke that smelled oddly good.

“Wh-What?” He asked. Looking around when some snakes —like Pansy pug-face Parkinson— laughed. 

“I asked you, MrWeasley, what’s the last ingredient in the potion, after the powdered moonstone? You were listening to the lesson, weren’t you?” 

Slughorn seemed tired of his student’s laughter and glared at some giggling Slytherins over his shoulder.

“I—uh—maybe some—uh—“

“Pearl Dust, sir.” Said a voice from the far end of the classroom.

Every head turned to see whose bitter voice that was. And, to every one’s surprise, they found a head of blond-silver hair and silver-like-steel weary eyes glaring at them.

Slughorn cleared his throat and the class looked at him again, “Very good, MrMalfoy, five points to Slytherin.” He turned to Ron. “We had already talked about this potion a few years back, MrWeasley, I would expect you to pay attention in my class, instead of daydreaming about your former potions-master, professor Snape.”

And, from that moment to the end of the class, Ron payed attention to every word said and, above all, tried to hide his blush that made his face look redder than his hair.

_______

Halle-bloody-luja.

Ron and the Gryffindors we’re entering the male locker rooms to prepare themselves for Quidditch, just like the girls in their team were doing in the female one.

They’d be practicing and choosing new players for the team, today. And every lion was sure they were going to win this year. Not only in the Quidditch pitch, but the house cup too. They had a reputation, after all.

When they were ready and outside, Ginny, the captain, called them for a little encouragement talk before they began.

“Very well, Gryffindors, we are all here to win! So, people who are already in the team—“ she looked directly at Harry, the seeker, Ron, the keeper, and Dean Thomas, the chaser. “—you all go and practice. Free the snitch for Harry and you, Dean, try to score against Ron so he can practice his defences.”

She looked at the new kids, looking terrified. There were some second years—boys and girls— some third and forth year girls and a fifth year boy alongside a sixth year girl.

“Everyone who’s trying out for a position in the team, follow me!” The red headed captain yelled.

Everything went alright in the first couple of hours, but, as the third hour passed, they had people watching them from the benches.

Every Gryffindor was already tired. The noobs because of the things Ginny made them do; Ginny because of her screams at her useless teammates and the newbies; and the others because of the real practice.

“Hey Potter,” yelled a Slytherin, who Ron recognized as Theodor Dott, or Mott, or something. “I already know why your girlfriend left you! I mean, I’d too if I was dating a prude!”

Harry stopped his broom in mid air —he hadn’t even spotted the snitch yet anyway— and glared at the Slytherin watchers.

“A What?!” He asked, gripping his broom tightly with the same strength he would use to strangle them.

“A prude, impotent, virgin, whatever you wanna call it, Saint Potter, the thing is, you just can’t do it!” Yelled another one, a girl this time, pug-face and cow-arse Parkinson; which made everyone laugh grotesque laughs. 

“You—“ Harry started to say, but stopped abruptly when someone whistled from the ground. 

The team looked down and saw McGonagall waiting for them to approach her.

Once everyone was firmly standing out of their brooms—with the team in the front and the newbies standing behind, panting from all of Ginny’s exercises— Minerva started.

“As you all know, during the... last year incidents, our Quidditch pitch and locker rooms were damaged —like the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff’s— or totally destroyed—like the Slytherin and Ravenclaw’s.”

She looked at the Slytherins watching them, trying to eavesdrop. She turned to the Lions once again.

“And, besides that, I, as headmistress, have decides that we need some... improvements in here. So, you’ll all be able to play, but the access to the benches will be prohibited.”

They all nodded and started whispering to each other what was going to happen and who’s idea this was.

“Off you go, now!”Ginny yelled after McGonagall had had a private word with her. “In five minutes the Ravenclaws will be here for their own practice! I’ll see you all tomorrow here by noon, since neither of you have classes in the evening. I’ll announce who stays and who goes in which position.” She clapped her hands and everyone parted their ways.

_____

During the first week after the Headmistress’s announcement, everyone was too curious for their own good.

Every practice, it didn’t matter which house was practicing—there would be a beater colliding in mid air with a seeker, or a chaser with the keeper or, in Ron’s case, with the ground. They would look every time someone —usually a professor or a house elf, which, thanks to Hermione, could only work if they accepted new clothes or a payment for their work— would pass the giant curtain that was hiding whatever it was they were preparing in there.

Now it was the beginning of the second week after the announcement, and everyone knew their time-tables.

Ron, who was extremely annoyed by his, was now complaining at the Gryffindor table. 

“From now on,” he said, “we’ll have practice just before the Slytherins! I heard our captains discussing it and—“

“Ron.” Ginny said, annoyed. “I AM the captain, I told you about it. The thing is—“

She trailed off, looking at the other side of the Great Hall. Ron, who was beside her noticed this and looked at the same time as Harry and Hermione did, who were in front of the ginger siblings. 

Draco Malfoy has just entered the Great Hall, right in front of Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Theodor something. 

They all had their stoic expressions on, as cocky and arrogant as ever. With that ‘Slytherins are better than everyone else’ look and actions.

“Have you noticed that Goyle hasn’t come back this year?”

The other three made eye contact as if asking ‘what the hell is going on?’ and Hermione decided to speak.

“Uh, Harry, don’t you think you’re doing it again. Being obsessed with Malfoy, I mean. I know, the last time you had a real reason, but now—“

Harry rolled his eyes and got up, cutting Hermione off.

“Can’t you see, guys? He’s planning something, something against us!”

“Harry, mate—“ Dean, who was just besides Ginny, tried to calm him, as he noticed that everyone in their table and in the Hufflepuff one were looking at them.

But, of course, Harry wouldn’t listen to anyone.

“No! Can’t you just listen to ME for once? I might not be the one with brains, like Hermione, or the one with funny jokes and comebacks, like Ron, or even a ray of sunshine and a powerful source of strength and confidence, like Luna and Ginny. But I’m the one who recognizes dark magic a mile away, I’m the one who defeat—“

And then he noticed the Great Hall was silent— the professors, every student— they were all looking at the him, with frowns on their faces. And then he understood why,his magic was out of control once again, every plate in the Gryffindor table was floating in a threatening way. 

Harry hates when this happened.

So he left the Great Hall. He literally ran to the tower where his dorm was, and stayed in bed until classes had ended that day

_________

After Quidditch practice, which Harry missed too, Ron and Hermione were in the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione was sitting in Ron’s lap, reading her potions textbook over his shoulder, with her arms around his neck and each one of her legs at his hip’s side.

“‘Mione.” Ron murmured, breathing in her sweet sent of strawberries and chocolate.

Since they had come back to Hogwarts they had more time to spend with each other without his brothers or parents bugging them all the time.

“Hm.” She whispered as a response.

“Do you— I mean, ipotetically speaking, would you think I’m crazy to think Harry ... to think he isn’t obsessed with Malfoy because he thinks he’s bad? I just— what if he just wants to have the last years back— he want to fight with the ferret again and—“

“Ron.” Hermione called, trying to calm her boyfriend down, with a reassuring hug and kiss in the cheek. “I’ve already explained this to Ginny.”

He looked at her skeptically, “What are you talking about? Ginny likes Malfoy too? But I thought Luna and she—“

“And they are together. As I was saying, I told Ginny what a ship is, it’s a muggle—“

“I know, it’s one of those things that you put in the sea!” He said, trying to be smart and not understanding what that had to do with anything.

“Yes and No.” she explained. “A ship can be a boat or a couple. Like us! Our name was—uh— Romione or something, from what Seamus told me.”

Ron nodded, processing everything in his red head. “So—“ he started “if you think someone should be with another person, you put their names together and shit them?” 

“Ship them, yes, but—“ when Hermione noticed, she was no longer in her boyfriend’s lap, but in the couch, while the ginger jumped up and down in front of her.

“I have to create a name, like — like Harco or something!” He yelled, and Hermione knew he really wanted to see his best friend happy, AND to have some drama and action in his life again, since he truly missed fighting and all.

She thought for a bit, and remembered hearing the Patil twins gossiping about something along the same lines with Lavender. Was it Darry? Haco? 

“Drarry!” She yelled out loud when she remembered. “That’s the official name.”

Ron looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but it was quickly changed to a pleased and exited expression.

“I love it!” He said, hugging her and heading upstairs. “Thanks, ‘Mione!” 

And Hermione smiled to herself as she shifted closer to the fire in the room, whilst hearing Ron’s exited words about ‘no more obsessions or complaining about the ferret if they shag each other!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading  
> Sorry for taking so long
> 
>  
> 
> Wait until he learnes what OTP means!!!!


	3. Showers

Only a few more bloody minutes and he’d be free! After this class he could go to his Quidditch practice! 

He glanced at the watch Hermione gave him— after modifying it to work in Hogwarts, since it shouldn’t because of something from that book she loved so much (Hogwarts a mystery? A misery? He wasn’t sure)— one minute, no, a few seconds.

“C’mon...” he whispered under his breath.

He grabbed his things discreetly. Only a few more—

“Class dismissed, you can leave now.” But the redhead wasn’t listening anymore. He’d already ran out the door before professor Flitwik even finished his sentence.

“Ron!” Yelled Harry, trying to catch up with his friend. 

Ron rolled his eyes, Harry had been in a bad mood all week and snapped at every little thing he or Hermione did or said.

Ron was sure Harry only needed someone to be with, since he was always complaining when his best friends showed too much PDA for his liking.

Once the raven haired boy caught up with the ginger, they both made their way to the Quidditch pitch in silence.

Once they got there and changed to their respective clothes, Ginny explained the new techniques they’d be using against the other teams.

Ron was not paying much attention, he was more worried about one little thing. One thing he should had thought before he got to Quidditch practice. One thing he only remembered when one of his mates asked him a question in the locker room:

“What are you going to give Hermione for her birthday, Ron?” To which he just smiled and said it was a surprise.

He’d been so happy about the fact that he was going to play Quidditch after another painfully boring day. But now, he couldn’t even hear what his sister was saying, with so much thoughts about whether books were a good gift or not flying around his head.

“Earth to Ron?!” Someone above him yelled. When he looked up, he noticed the entire team looking at him. “Are you going to stand there all day or ....”

He shook his head out of his thoughts and did as she asked. Mounting his broom and flying to the goalposts.

___________________________

Throughout the whole game, Harry noticed something was off with Ron. He was usually distracted during practice, it could be because of the Slytherin laughing as they passed by, because of the last Bludger that had hit him in the head, or—recently— because of the new thing the Headmistress, McGonagall, and the other professors were altering in the pitch, behind that white blanket they used to cover it up.

But this time, none of those caught his attention. 

Harry knew his friend, he knew those ‘oh-shit’ eyes, the eyes every Weasley had when Molly caught them doing something—like stealing a bloody flying car, for Merlin’s sake— and Harry was sure it all had to do with that comment Dean had made about Hermione’s birthday.

Ron had been too quiet since then— and Ron was only quiet when he ate, so Harry supposed his best friends’ relationship was serious, since the ginger considered the brunette as worthy as food.

Harry sighed, he missed Ginny sometimes, when he saw her with Luna, giggling and hugging and— to his surprise, since it was the first time he’d seen it— even kissing.

But he didn’t miss her as a girlfriend exactly, he missed her company, he missed having someone. 

Fighting Voldemort always kept his body and mind occupied, but now everyone around him either had already found their partner—like Hermione and Ron— or had discovered the true meaning of their lives — like his aunt Andromeda, who had to look after Teddy now— or even both— like Luna, who had Ginny and had received an invitation from Charlie to go to Romania and take care of dragons and, if everything went well, other creatures in danger.

About an hour later, Harry caught the bloody snitch, finally, ‘cause he was really tired. His times were getting worse, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the year he spent in the hunt for Horcruxes and didn’t pay, or if it was because he was super distracted this year.

Ginny called them all to the ground to tell them they’d never win against his the other houses if they kept getting distracted like that.

She was a bit like Wood, sometimes. If you didn’t do everything perfectly at first, you’d hear a two hour speech— literally. But, thanks Merlin and Morgana, she wasn’t as obsessed as Oliver. The shitty part was: she way scarier; like when she adopted MrsWeasley’s features to scold them.

“Understood, everybo—“ she looked over Harry’s head and, before he could turn around to see what made her stop so abruptly mid sentence, he heard a familiar voice.

“Weasellett.” Blaise Zabini.

“Alright,” Ginny said, turning towards them once again and making a subtle hand gesture, eyes set on Harry, for him to take the guys to their locker rooms and she’d do the same with the girls. “That’s all for today. Same time tomorrow. Off you go!”

And they left the pitch.

Once they were in their locker room, Harry came face to face Theodor Nott —who was a bit taller than him, but not enough to make him back down. 

“Potter.” He greeted, with an evil smirk dancing across his lips.

“What,” Ron said, stepping forward, and Harry saw the fire burning the ginger’s eyes and face. “in the name of Merlin, are you, SNAKES, doing here.?” He spat the question as if it was poison burning his mouth.

“Weaselett didn’t tell you?!” At that moment, Harry looked around and noticed the room full of half naked Slytherins —which, he didn’t know why, made him blush. He looked away.

“Tell is what?” Dean hissed, frowning.

“After our locker room being destroyed, we’ve been given permission to use yours; just like the other two houses will share theirs.”

Harry looked closely at Ron’s face, trying to predict his best friend’s actions before a tried to kill someone.

First there was a hint of confusion, as the red haired boy frowned and his eyebrows almost touched; then, Harry saw, almost in slow motion, the blush of anger crawling its way from Ron’s collar bone to his face.

Before any Gryffindor could do anything, Ron left through the same door he had entered before and started yelling his sister’s full name.

Harry turned to the Slytherins once again and, before he could open his mouth, Blaise Zabini stepped forward towards Nott and threw his arm around his friend’s shoulders. He had strong arms, with strong, dark hands and long fingers with clean fingernails, Harry looked away.

“Don’t mess with them, Theo. Pansy isn’t here to watch you can stop pretending now!” Every other Slytherin started laughing and Zabini made kissing noises at Theodor, making him blush as fiercely as Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes at their childish behaviour and made his was towards a free spot near the shower, the rest of his teammates —except Ron— followed suit.

As he slowly took his clothes out— trying to NOT look at the other boys around him who were preparing themselves for practice, why should it matter if that seeker from sixth year had clear olive skin, or that Theodor had defined abs and Zabini a firm ass— his teammates occupied every shower except one.

He grabbed his towel and, just as he was about to grab the handle of the shower’s door, someone had grabbed it before him.

He looked at that person’s hand— pale skin, so white it looked like a corpse’s, and it was just as skinny— his eyes followed the way up his arm — just as pale as the hand but with a few bruises, some turning that greenish colour that meant they were healing, others still that usual dark purple— and Harry’s eyes landed on a face with a sharp jaw and cheekbones, grey eyes and blond eyebrows.

He would have noticed the blond hair the moment he entered the locker room if it was not hidden under the hood of his sweatshirt.

“Malfoy.” Harry said, stepping in front of the door so the blond boy —who was at least one head taller than him; Harry knew he had grown during the summer, but not this much— so he was blocking the door.

The only acknowledgment he got from his school mate was a nod with his head and a sharp room that made Harry’s spine shiver— it wasn’t a glare, but was just as sharp.

“Go to another shower, Malfoy. I’m in a hurry.” Malfoy just made another attempt to the door’s handle, which Harry blocked. “Who even takes showers BEFORE practice, anyway?!” 

Malfoy sighed and looked at Harry with wary eyes. “It relaxes me, alright, Potter? Not everyone has a life as careless as yours.”

Harry felt as if he had just been provoked, as if that was a pleading to be beaten up. “Careless? Please, Malfoy!” Harry got closer to the blond’s face, his nose almost touching the other’s pointy one. He stabbed one finger in Malfoy’s chest, accusingly. “I’m not the one who grew up in the richest family in the wizarding world!”

Malfoy looked down, his grey eyes turning silver, like steel. “Shut up, Potter!” Harry could see him loosing his patience, which was good, because angry people couldn’t control themselves and maybe Harry could force him to tell him what he was hiding. “You know nothing about me, about my life, about my—“

But he was cut off by the door of the shower, next to the one they were arguing for, opening and, without another sound, Malfoy slithered in after its earlier owner left.

Harry gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, taking his glasses off and stepping into the shower, closing the door right behind him.

He turned the water on and took off his boxers. He washed his face first and leaned against the shower’s wall, trying to ease the tension on his shoulders by cleaning them with a soap Luna had given him, saying it was relaxing and helped whatever part of your body you used it in to ease tension. 

Even after all this, she was as innocent as ever...

Harry pressed his head to the wall behind him, sensing that it truly helped to relax, even if not much and that’s when he heard it.

A loud moan came from the shower next to him— so close, that he jumped upon hearing it— and it was extremely close. So close it felt as if the person moaning was in the same shower as him.

‘WAIT!’ Harry thought. ‘The shower next to mine is —is —‘

But he couldn’t finish his sentence as another moan came, lower this time.

“Alright” Harry whispered to himself. “Just ignore it and shower as fast as you possibly can...” he nodded to himself and started to wash his hair.

He had a feeling the blond did this every time he showered, anise the sounds sounded so natural coming from his throat, husky and soft at the same time.

After a while he realizes, though, that he still felt relaxed, from the soap and, he’d never admit it, from the sounds coming from next door.

He had always thought of Malfoy as an evil person, as a poisonous, fake creature that would—if you gave him the chance— destroy you with a cunning plan. That was the exact same idea he had of every Slytherin: they were snakes, cold blooded, vile creatures which could hide from you with fake sweetness and addictive poison; but as soon as they gained your trust, they’d show their true self, by taking off their old skin.

But after watching the strange display of affection between Blaise and Theodor, he started to doubt his own assumptions.

And after the look he saw in Malfoy’s piercing eyes, after hearing those throaty moans, he started to think of himself as insane.

He kept the image of those eyes in mind, hypnotizing and tired, like they had seen things they tried to hide.

Harry shook his thoughts out of his head. He really needed a hobby besides Quidditch, or a girlfriend. Yes, a girlfriend would be ideal.

He turned the water off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He had brought a towel for his hair as well, but now remembered he’d left it with the rest of his clothes. 

So he unlocked the door and stepped out, noticing that the Gryffindors had already left and most Slytherins were making their way to the pitch for practice.

“Potter.” Malfoy said, just as Harry passed him. His eyes were red, but not puffy enough for Harry to think he had been crying, just enough to remind Harry that the boy— man— in front of him was also human.

When Harry noticed the odd look some Slytherins were giving him — including Malfoy— he followed their stares and got a view of the towel wrapped around his waist. And there it was: the one that was supposed to be used for his hair because it was really small, the only thing covering him and, as he looked over his shoulder, he saw the towel he should had used, near his sweaty Quidditch clothes.

He felt a blush crawling up his throat, just like Ron’s had, and rushed towards his clean clothes, trying to clean himself and only hearing chuckles from the others as his towel fell to the ground and his butt was exposed. He thanked Merlin for the fact that only his back was facing them.

He could feel them staring as he tried to dress, but as he was still wet, his clothes cling to his body and he only blushed more.

He would never admit it, but he was extremely grateful for the fact that Malfoy called them to the pitch and warned them to hurry up or they wouldn’t have time to practice.

He knew the blond would not be so a good action without something in return, but after that much embarrassment, he didn’t mind much.

_________

At dinner that day, Harry was so focused on discovering what Malfoy wanted, or what he was plotting against the trio, that he didn’t eat a thing.

He kept looking at the blond, only changing his eyes’ course when he felt Harry Starr or when Hermione warned him about the odd expression he had. 

Harry was aware of the fact that he couldn’t hide anything from Hermione, but he also knew she, this year, was too concentrated on Ron to notice every step Harry made.

Every step! That’s it!

How could he had forgotten about the Marauders’ map?! How could he had forgotten about something as important! 

He got up, bid his friends goodbye —without noticing the roll of Hermione’s eyes, the grin stretched across Luna and Ron’s face or the odd look Ginny gave him— and left the Hall. Aware of the pair of grey orbs following him silently.

He’d prove them wrong! He’d make them see the evil ferret that Malfoy was! The sneaky snake! The—the — whatever, Ron was the one who made the jokes. He just needed to prove them wrong.

He was plotting something, Harry just needed to discover what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the waiting! I promise it will get more interesting from now on! I just had a creative block, my b-day and was trying to be as less cliché as possible.
> 
> LY
> 
> -CGM


	4. The Map

“He’s completely bloody obsessed!” Groaned Hermione, as Harry left the hall with his eyes fixed on the blond. Even though he thought no one had noticed, Hermione was sure everyone in the Great Hall noticed.

“I know, right?” Said Ron, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s not a good thing, Ron, if we —“ 

But Ron got that look across his face that meant he had had an idea, so Hermione stopped mid sentence to hear his plan and to try to find a solution to prevent their death or expulsion.

“What are you planning, Ronald?” Asked Ginny, who had noticed his expression too.

“I was just wondering if ‘Mione still had Harry’s cloak from the last time she went to the library after curfew.” He said, making those puppie dog eyes, cute smile and ‘attractive’ voice Hermione couldn’t resist. 

But she wasn’t dumb. Actually, she had a few documents which said OUTSTANDING who proved her point.

“What are you plotting, Ronald?” She asked, with one eyebrow raised. 

“I was thinking that, maybe, the school library might have the book in looking for” he answered, looking proud.

Ginny and Hermione looked suspiciously at each other as if asking what was going on and at Ron again.

Hermione nodded—still in a bit stunned to know what was happening with her boyfriend— and took a cloak, that looked normal but they both knew wasn’t, from her backpack.

She gave it to Ron, who thanked her and left the table, with a satisfied grin in his lips.

“What. Was. That?” Ginny asked.

“I don’t know, Gin. He is starting to notice stuff, he wants to go to the library AND he had an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in our Charms assignment!” Suddenly, her chest filled with dread and her eyes focused on Ginny’s. “Do— Do you think he was poisoned or something?”

Ginny laughed at that— actually LAUGHED!— and shook her head. “I’ll be concerned about Ron when he stops eating a chicken and a half every day. Seriously, ‘Mione, he stole your toast and you didn’t even notice.” 

Hermione looked down and, in fact, Ronald had stole her toast. “Bastard” she whispered under her breath.

______________

 

“Where’s that damned thing?!” Harry yelled, frustrated. He still hadn’t found the bloody map, nor his cloak.

“Looking for this?” Someone behind him asked, and he jumped at the sound of the voice, expecting to be alone until much later.

The raven haired boy turned around and his green eyes focused on Neville Longbottom. He had the old looking map Harry was looking for in his right hand and a big smile in his whole face and, as always, that smile made Harry feel calm.

Harry hadn’t seen Neville much this year. They only saw each other at night because of the intense training his friend was getting. He was studying Herbology with Sprout every morning at six in the morning and the rest of his day was spent with her, except for meal times, where the professor and he would eat in the Divination Tower to hel Trelawney with some sort of plants that she said would be very useful in the future of seers.

Harry was really proud of his friend’s achievements. He was already preparing himself for the life he wanted.

Harry wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be an Auror, a DADA teacher or work in the muggle world.

“Thanks, Neville.” Harry said, taking the map from his friend. “What are you doing here? You usually just come back after dinner.” He was truly curious, actually. And he felt bad for not being too present in his friend’s life. Now that Hermione and Ron had each other, he was too focused on himself to notice the fact that there were other people around him who, as he should have realized earlier, were his friends.

“Oh, uh, I—uh— I asked Professor Sprout if I could have a free night today.” His cheeks started to become red. “I asked Luna to meet me by the lake today, you know. I just came here to look for my favourite shirt and found your map under my bed.” Neville chuckled and bid Harry goodbye.

As the door closed after his friend who had just left with his shirt in his hand,Harry grabbed his wand and the map.

“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.” He whispered as his wand was pointed to the map and the words and images started to appear.

He looked at the image of Hogwarts. Hermione and Ginny were still in the Great Hall; Ron was heading towards the library—and that surprised Harry very much, but he didn’t really think much of it, Ron was probably just rememberers some homework due tomorrow that he hadn’t done—; Neville was, in fact, heading towards the lake; Luna was leaving the Ravenclaw tower and walking really, really slowly.

Harry looked at the Great Hall again and saw the person he was looking for. Malfoy was just leaving, with Pansy pug-faced Parkinson in his tail.

They were probably going to their dorms for a quick shag or something.

He followed them with his eyes and, without noticing, started glaring at the letters that formed Pansy’s name.

Harry didn’t understand what was so special about her. She wasn’t that pretty—at least Harry did not feel attracted to her— and she was with a different boy in her bed everyday, or something.

Now that Harry noticed it, they were heading towards the boys’ dorms— ‘weird’ he thought. 

He had always assumed Malfoy would be one of those who slithers their way into a girl’s bed and then, in the morning while the girl is still asleep, he escapes her bedroom and tells his friends everything he did as if it was just another victory.

Well, maybe he didn’t sleep in the girls’ beds, but Harry was sure he wasn’t someone who cuddled after sex. 

He focused on the map once again:

Malfoy and Parkinson were now in the same bed and, even though he didn’t know why, he felt his stomach twist. Like he had ate something rotten at dinner when he hadn’t even eaten at all. 

Maybe it was just hunger. Or maybe he was just tired.

Yeah, Harry was tired. So, he dressed his pyjamas, and went to bed after washing his teeth the muggle way, as he always did. He closed the curtains around his bed and, just like Hermione had taught him, placed a silencing charm around him so no one could hear him if he had nightmares nor could he hear the others if they made any sound.  
~  
Harry was in a room. He wasn’t sure where, at first, but then something triggered his memory.

He remembered that smell, the smell of parchment and the lake, from his second year.

But at the time he had only been in the common room, now he was in one of the dorms— the boys’ one, judging by the pair of boxers he had just stepped in.

And when he looked up again, after kicking that piece of underwear under someone’s bed, he saw them.

Parkinson and Malfoy had their foreheads pressed together. The girl sitting in the blond’s lap, smirking.

Harry watched as they lips were pressed together and their hands travelled around each other’s bodies.

He inhaled and held his breath. 

The way Malfoy’s hands travelled down the raven haired girl made Harry lose track of time; then, his hands were under her shirt and he bit her neck and she moaned.

All Harry could think of was, ‘what would that feel like if it was me?’, as his eyes closed so he could take a deep breath and calm his heart beats.

And when he opened his eyes once more, the speed of the bumping muscle inside his rib cage doubled. He WAS in the exact position Parkinson had been just moments before.

Pale grey piercing eyes met his and Harry was sure he wouldn’t be able to ever breathe again. He slid his hand up, until they found Malfoy’s messy, gel-less hair. The blond’s hands were holding Harry’s lower back firmly. They could surely feel each other’s “excitement” by now. 

When their faces started to get close enough so Harry could feel Malfoy’s breath dance across his face, their eyes started to close on their own accord.

Harry moved his hips once, deciding he wanted to feel the other boy’s fast heart beats and altered breath; and —oh, god— it worked. It definitely wasn’t just Malfoy’s agitated pulse that was easier for Harry to feel.

And when he finally decided to take that last step, just leaning in a few more centimetres and taste the apple the blond had had for dinner, Harry woke up with a start.

He looked at the watch he had beside his bed. It was a few minutes until six in the morning. 

He rolled to his side and groaned. For some reason, his hand had made its way into his underwear and was holding his hard erection.

He really needed a girlfriend!

He couldn’t remember his dream, but he was sure this instinct to have a quick release was caused because of all the speculation about the shag between Parkinson and Malfoy.

__________

Ron had just barely escaped Filch and his bloody cat! 

He entered the library and searched for the restricted section. He was not really sure why they didn’t have better protection on this section as it was restricted, but he was surely grateful for that.

It was already late and, specially after eating as much as he had, staying awake was already extremely difficult but, exhausting as reading books was, he had to keep going.... for his biggest and only ship, he told himself.

Several minutes later and the only thing that had made him feel at least a bit alive was a spider that came out of a book. 

He sometimes wished Harry would come out just like the spider. He remembered Hermione explaining him some muggle expression like: had to come out of the wallet, or something weird like that.

He reached a shelf full of different sized books and started reading the old looking titles.

“Poisonous aquatic plants”; “human eating dangerous whatever”; “the cursed flowers of blah blah blah” he read out loud, rolling his eyes and smirking a bit at his own childlike behaviour.

And then—right beside a green, old book, whose title was to worn out to even read— there was the book he was looking for!

He took it out of the shelf and placed it in a nearby table and opened it.

The grin he had before quickly disappeared and was replaced by a frown and then face that only appeared when he was too frustrated to even make a joke about a certain situation.

The book had more than A-BLOODY-THOUSAND words and had NO IMAGES!

He groaned and hit his head against the table. This was about to be a long, long night.

But he’d make an effort to see his best friend happy, just like he was with Hermione, and to see this ship sailing without any iceberg to make it sink— like that movie-thing ‘Mione had told him about, the Titanician or something; he really needed to pay more attention to what his girlfriend told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so damn long for such a short chapter! I just wanted it to be good! Thanks for reading and give me your honest opinions please!!! 
> 
> And I tried to put Harry’s dream in Italics, but it did not work, so sorry!
> 
> LY
> 
> -CGM


	5. Secrets

“As Ron would say, ‘Bloody Hell!’” Hermione whispered. 

McGonagall had just opened the curtain, around that secret thing everyone was talking about in the Quidditch pitch, after Hermione accepting to help with the project.

She didn’t know what it was when she accepted, of course, but —WOW!

“Wait!” Hermione said “I read in Hogwarts: a History that muggle technology doesn’t work here.”

“We are aware of that fact, yes, MsGranger, but this one was created specifically for the Wizarding World. The Department of Magical Games and Sports wanted to test this ... thing, for the next Quidditch World Cup and they asked me, as the Headmistress of Hogwarts, if we would be willing to do it.”

“Wow” She said out loud. Ron’d kill her if he knew she was doing this behind his back — Harry probably wouldn’t care, since he was too obsessed with Malfoy to even care or notice what his friends were doing — but she was sure Ron would AVADA her, or try to make her vomit slugs. Thanks Godric, when he discovered, she’d just tell him she was trying to surprise him, even though he didn’t like surprises, because they made him feel stupid and oblivious for not noticing.

Yes, this was a bad idea, but she was SO EXCITED!

So, McGonagall and Hermione raised their wands and started working.

_______________

Ron was, at the moment, surrounded by at least ten books with more than a thousand pages each. 

This was the first time he’d ever read a book without images!

He was so tired; he had a huge headache! All he wanted to do was to rip his hair out and grab his eyes and eat them! He was so hungry too!

He had skipped breakfast so he could read alone in his dorm. He hadn’t noticed before— probably because he was like that too— but his dorm mates were totally and completely annoying!

Those little shits were always like:

“Have you seen the Patil twins this year? I mean, I’d shag Parvati senseless and still have energy to do the same to Padma...”

“If Lovegood wasn’t so loony, she’d probably be a beast in bed...” 

And other disgusting stuff like that.

He was so thankful for having Hermione, since he didn’t want to turn out like his friends. At least— now that Harry was oblivious to every single detail around him — Ron had Neville, who was the only normal boy in that school. 

He had even helped Ron carry his books from the library and had given him one of his books about plants that was really helpful.

He had already planned something for the Christmas holidays, because he was sure Harry’d stay here — he didn’t have anywhere else to go; just like Hermione and probably every other student, since McGonagall had announced that Hogwarts was going to celebrate the end of the war with another Yule Ball, but without the whole Goblet of Fire and Champions dying stuff.  
Honestly, this was McGonagall , not Dumbledore.

He needed to ask ‘Mione for help with his plan, because it was a bit complicated and he wasn’t entirely sure how to begin to put his mischievous plan in progress.

He needed to go to his brother’s joke shop as well—in their next Hogsmead visit— to buy the stuff he needed.

The red head was sure he was gonna receive a howler from Harry when he was finished with this, but maybe, just maybe, his best friend would appreciate what he did and thank him after his marriage with Malfoy...

Maybe by then they’d have a son or a daughter, maybe both, twins or—

Ron shook his head out of his thoughts, he didn’t know about the future yet, but he knew that they HAD to be together first.

He was surely spending too much time surrounded by ducks who made his brain turn into mush.

And then, suddenly, he remembered something fairly important:

He should be in practice right now. He only had two days until Monday’s game, he was so bloody screwed. 

He had been so distracted by this whole Drarry thing that, when he looked at the clock, he realized he was already twenty minutes late!

Ginny would strangle him, or even use an unforgivable. She was capable of anything, that crazy sister of his! How was it possible that the girl, a few months younger than him, had created the evil Bat Boogy Hex?

“Bloody hell” he whispered as he closed the books and grabbed his broom and Quidditch robes to go straight to the field as fast as he could.

______________

After practice, Harry realized he was more exhausted than he had been for a long time.

He was doing as much as he could during practice, the game against Ravenclaw was almost there; studying for his lessons and, on top of that, like the cherry on top of the cake, the dreams that were haunting him.

Ginny had given him and his teammates an “encouraging” speech about not losing the game or they’d lose their lives.

And, as he looked around, he noticed the stress on the others Gryffindors’ faces.

Of course, in that moment, the snakes had to step in the locker room.

He was in no mood to face Malfoy right now, but he knew he could do nothing to prevent their encounter, since they were like a magnet of opposite poles who attracted each other even against their own will.

He tosses his clothes aside, grabbed his towel— the right one, this time— and entered the first empty shower he saw.

He turned the hot water on and sighed.

At least now he could take a relaxing, long, hot shower with the shampoo he had borrowed from Hermione, which smelled like apples— she didn’t use it because she said she had purchased the wrong one, since she preferred the smell of oranges and cinnamon— so, after Harry’s shampoo finished, Hermione gave him hers.

He started to wash himself and, when he was ready to turn the water off, the same unmistakable, throaty moans he’d heard last time started.

The first one he heard this time was a low, muffled one; followed by other that sounded relaxed and kept going for some time like that.

It was only when Harry heard the sound of a wet body pressing itself gently against the wall — as if resting — that Harry noticed he’d pressed his ear against the shower’s wall to listen more closely.

He was really going nuts, he knew he was, so he started hitting his own head against the wall.

When he stopped to comb his hair with his fingers so it wouldn’t be in front of his eyes, he remembered that it was not so weird for him to pay attention to Malfoy.

For example, that morning, when Ron had missed breakfast, Harry had been sitting by himself at the Gryffindor table— Hermione was too stubborn and kept saying she needed to study for her N.E.W.T.s even though she already knew every word in every book in the school’s library and Ginny and Luna were too busy focused in kissing and cleaning each other’s throats to notice he was there.

He kept glancing around the Hall, at the teachers, students and ghosts.

Surprise, surprise, his eyes landed on the Slytherin table and found Malfoy’s piercing grey orbs.

The moment their eyes met, Harry remembered everything that had happened in his dream— sinful thoughts all around his head now— and his cheeks started burning because of the embarrassment he was feeling.

Malfoy wasn’t looking at him anymore, so he kept staring, telling himself he’d look at each and every movement the blond made and try to discover his evil plans.

By the end of the meal he would notice his food was still on his plate, but now all he cared about was Malfoy’s lips closing around the spoon full of cereals and milk which he was eating.

He had a very correct posture for someone who seemed to be simply relaxing with his friends:

Straight back, shoulders high and proud, chin up.

But Harry had known this snob ass since they were eleven and he knew something was wrong.

That blond hair that stood out in any crowd was not gelled back as it had been in previous years; his pale skin was now so pale that instead of the natural glow it used to have, it was almost a lifeless blue; his eyes had dark shadows under them, but his stare was as strong as always; his clothes were still all black, but were not black formal suits anymore, now they were just black, informal, wizard clothes.

Then, sudden and unexpectedly, the person who was beside the blond— who Harry identified as Theodor Nott— started laughing at something Blaise Zabini— who was sitting in front of those two with his back turned to Harry — said and elbowed Malfoy is in the arm, making him spill milk and cereals all over himself. 

Malfoy scowled at his friends and Harry could hear them apologizing between breathless laughs.

Harry followed with his eyes as the drops of milk in Malfoy’s pointy chin fell, slowly, one after the other.

Then, with his index finger, the Slytherin cleaned the remaining of the milk from his throat to his jaw and licked his finger.

Harry swallowed— trying to vanish the dryness from his mouth — and subconsciously licked his lips to moist them as well.

Their eyes locked for a brief second and Malfoy mimicked Harry’s actions with his pink tongue, as if in a warning, and used his wand to clean himself.

As Harry remembered his early thoughts about what it’d be like licking the milk out of Malfoy’s pale skin while he stepped out of the shower, he realized how crazy his life was.

Everything was upside down.

Harry, after drying himself with a quick wave of his wand, he put on his clothes calmly, noticing that some Slytherins still hadn’t left.

He grabbed his broom and, as he headed out—OOPS— he unintentionally hit someone with it.

“Sor—“ he started to apologize, until he noticed who it was.

“Careful, Potter” the blond hissed.

“Sod off, Malfoy!”

Malfoy looked at the group of fifth years who were still there and nodded his head towards the door, telling them silently to leave.

Once they did, he looked at the raven haired boy dead in the eye and took one step closer to him.

“What do you want, Potter?” He spat, walking forward. “I’ve seen you look at me. I’ve seen the WAY you look at me. I bet you think of me as the filthy Death Eater who tried to kill Dumbledore, don’t you?” When he finished, Harry felt his feet hit the wall behind him— since he had been walking backwards the whole time— but that didn’t scare him.

He grabbed the hand with which Malfoy had been pointing in his direction threateningly and changed their positions, pressing the blond— who was a bit taller than him— against the wall.

“Are you done, pretty boy?” He barked.

The Slytherin struggled against him, freeing himself from Harry’s grasp and sending him the deadliest of glares, before saying, “your insults stink, just like you, Potter!” And leaving the raven haired boy with his green eyes wide open.

_____________

At the end of the same day, Hermione, Ron and Harry entered the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione had mixed feelings, since she was extremely excited about her project with McGonagall and she felt guilty as well for not telling her best friends what she was doing in her free time besides studying.

Ron, on the other hand, was so focused on his plan that he hadn’t even made a mean comment in any class today and hadn’t eaten anything besides his entire chicken at lunch and two meat pies for dinner.

Lastly, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the whole Malfoy thing. The way he had pressed the blond’s soft body against the wall and the Death Eater comment and— HOLY GODRIC GRYFFINDOR!

Soft body?!  
What the hell, Harry?!

Oh, he was gonna make that cunning snake regret everything! Specially offending his smell! He didn’t stink!

The three of them threw themselves to the couch in front of the fireplace and said, “I’m exhausted!” In unison, looking at each other and asking, “why are you two exhausted? I DID NOTHING!” And getting up and going to their respective beds, feeling bad for lying and suspecting each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so damn long! Omg!


	6. Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor

Harry was so bloody tired! He hadn’t slept, again. Those dreams had the excellent idea of haunting him again that night. Making him imagine himself licking, kissing, straddling and doing every unimaginable thing with Malfoy. 

For Godric’s sake, even Anna Abott would be better!

And, once again, after the last Quidditch practice, in the shower, he ended up with his ear pressed against the wet tile wall and wasting the little energy he still had on “touching himself”, while hearing the Slytherin moan.

But— he told himself, as he and the rest of the team entered the pitch for the big game— if he ignored his exhaustion, he wouldn’t feel it, nor be affected by it.

Besides, he was truly excited, just like everyone else, to discover what McGonagall had been doing and why it all had to be such a big surprise.

Harry entered the pitch and heard a voice — which he assumed was Blaise Zabini’s, the new Hogwarts Quidditch’s commentator— saying:

“Good afternoon, Hogwarts! It’s three in the afternoon right now and the game is about to begin!” 

Harry looked at the Ravenclaws and smirked, ‘finally’, he thought, ‘a real game’.

Blaise started talking again, introducing every team member in a way that would have made Lee Jordan —the commentator that made everyone except McGonagall laugh— proud.

The snitch was released and the Quaffle and the players were in the air.

“And— OH!— the Ravenclaw with a big nose has the Quaffle! He passes it to that long brunette boy with the longest hair and — uh, what a shame!— the red headed Gryffindork blocked it, and now his annoying sister has it with a grip as strong as the one she has on that sexy blonde with a lion head, seriously what the fu—“

Harry heard McGonagall clear her throat besides the dark skinned wizard. 

“Alright, Students of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry” the Headmistress said, “it is time to announce what you all have been expecting.”

There was silence. Everyone held their breaths as the Headmistress pointed her wand at the blanket covering a part of the benches in the pitch.

The thick material started to lift itself with her nonverbal spell.

Harry swallowed, trying to breathe normally. He knew what that was, he had seen it more than once while at the Dursley’s, when Dudley started watching sports even though he didn’t know the teams or players.

It was one of the kissing cams that Muggles used. This was going to be an interesting year.

He looked around and noticed that his teammates and the Ravenclaws has stopped midair as well, looking at the cam uncertainly.

He glanced at the benches and saw that every Half-Blood —except him— and Pureblood was confused.

“Oh, c’mon” Zabini said, “you’ll be able to see what it does soon enough. Now play!”

And they did:

“The game is back on, ALLELUJA. The big nose has the Quaffle again and, WOAH, careful with the Bludgers, you don’t want to hurt your own team members.”

As the game went on, Harry kept looking around, trying to find the Golden Snitch. 

As if on cue, a little golden object with wings flew right past his face. 

He smirked, noticing that the opposite seeker hadn’t spotted the snitch yet. 

He followed it with his eyes and saw it flying above the heads of the people sitting on the Ravenclaw side of the pitch, near his blonde friend, Luna, with her lion head costume.

When he made sure the other Seeker was not looking at him, he sped up towards his target — with Zabini narrating every movement he made — and the snitch flew away once more, stopping right in front of the screen of the kissing cam.

And he was on the screen. His face, sweaty and red, beside the image of someone sitting in the Gryffindor side— their face was covered by a hood and Harry did not recognize who it was. 

Then Blaise started saying, “kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss,...” and everyone started to understand what was happening and did the same.

The raven haired boy ignored them and tried to catch the little flying ball, the words “kiss, kiss” giving him a migraine. 

The snitch was certainly making fun of him, flying out of reach every time his hand got closer to it.

He was starting to feel pissed and he knew— from old experiences— that when he got pissed his magic always got out of control.

He felt his face getting warmer and he knew he was blushing from anger.

“Kiss, kiss, ...” he kept hearing.

Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten and when he looked at the kissing cam’s screen, the person whose face he couldn’t see was already gone. 

He made one more attempt at catching the bloody snitch and— 

“Yes! He did it!” Zabini yelled. 

But Harry only stared at the place where the mysterious person was before. 

‘Who the hell was that?’ He asked himself, turning around to look at his cheerful and joyful teammates to ask if they knew who that was. 

However, just as he faced Ron, a bludger came flying towards him and—

______________________________________

“Look, Ron, he’s waking up” Harry heard someone whisper beside him. 

He blinked a few times and looked around, seeing a few blurs:

Two red ones— who he supposed were Ginny and Ron— a brown one —who he suspected was Hermione — right beside the blonde, almost white one— who, by the colours he could see in the person’s clothes, even though blurry, he’d say was Luna.

He sat up and Hermione handed him his glasses.

“Thanks” he said and noticed how raspy his voice was because of the time he spent in the Hospital without drinking anything. “How many hours have I been out?”

Luna got up and went to the window and opened the curtain, “almost six hours.”

“WHAT?” He leaned forward unexpectedly and groaned in pain.

“Just lay down, mate” Ron said. Harry did so and spent the next half an hour listening to his friends explain what happened after he caught the Snitch with his hand and the Bludger with his face. 

To his big surprise, that damn cam chose Dean and Seamus— or Deamus, as Ginny called it— after that.

‘Well’, he thought ‘at least I won’t be the center of attention and stares and gossip’.

“Do you think you can come to the victory party in our common room?” Ginny asked, concern in her voice.

“No, you guys go without me.”  
As they started to pack their things, Harry remembered something and asked, “‘Mione, can you stay here? I need to ask you something.”

“Sure?”

Once the others had left, she sat besides his bed.

“Do— do you know who that person was?” He noticed her confused expression and added. “In the cam with me, I mean.”

“Oh, well...” she seemed nervous, “well, you see, I, uh, I helped McGonagall build it and, uh, it chooses the two people with the strongest feelings for each other, the more chemistry, the better.”

“But, you don’t know who that was?” He questioned, still a little shocked to know she had kept that from Ron and him.

She shook her head. He sighed and thanked her, telling her she could go enjoy the party with the others or go to the library or whatever. 

Once alone, he looked at the mountain of “get-well-soon” catds and all those sweets people had left him.

He picked one from the top of the pile and read the message Parvati had left him, thanking him for helping her win the bet between her and her twin.

The second letter was a poem, from Ginny, making fun of him just like she had done years before when she had that stupid crush on him. That made him smile, just like the book Hermione gave him and the ‘Every Flavour Beans’ Ron gave him.

He read a few more from the Gryffindors and a couple from the Ravenclaws thanking him for the game and saying they’d win next time. 

Then, when he thought he was too tired to read the million cards he still had left and the hundreds of thousands of chocolate frogs to eat, he decided to read at least one more card. 

He opened it and read:

‘Shame we didn’t share that kiss, I guess we will have to wait until next time.

— X’

What?  
Who was that?  
Why was Harry’s life such a mess?  
Why had that person not tried to kiss him, he was the great CHOSEN ONE after all.  
But that’s not true, he’s just Harry.

Harry laid back down and looked at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, thinking about his life at the moment. 

They had won, but Harry was missing the party. 

After half an hour he was bored. He had never spent this much time alone, isolated from everyone else, his only friends were his thoughts. 

Maybe the last time he had been alone had been before the war— No, at that time his thoughts were connected with Voldemort’s. 

Yep, for the first time Harry was alone, and he did not like it. 

What if he was meant to be alone for the rest of his life?

That scared him above anything else, being with someone who only cares about his fame and makes him feel alone anyway.

And, the more he thought about it, the more he realized the reason why this was sixth year all over again, just like Ron warned him.

He needed to focus on something beside his loneliness; now that his friends were dating and living great lives without him— he was useless.

That’s why he chose to be obsessed over Draco fucking Malfoy, the only one who knows how much he suffered because he lived it as well. 

He now regretted almost killing the blond, they were at war, after all, no one really wins without scars.

Harry fell asleep with THAT thought in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this!!!! I’ll try to update this week the next chapter!!!
> 
> Ly
> 
> Ps: I need to know.... who’s top and who is the bottom?!?!?!?!
> 
> Ly


	7. Ron’s plan

Bloody library! Fucking books!

Ron was in the library — AGAIN— surrounded by boring books— ALONE.

Hermione was with Ginny doing “girl stuff”, which meant Ginny had dragged his girlfriend along with the other female Gryffindors to buy dresses. 

McGonagall had announced that the Yule Ball would require formal robes —just like it was written in the letter— so almost everyone went there to buy theirs. 

But the main reason why he was alone was the fact that Harry was still in the Hospital Wing. 

Madam Pomfrey was trying to heal him, but it was a difficult thing to do when she was out of skelegrow for his leg, which was broken. 

So, Ron was alone, in the library, surrounded by books. However, he was not studying. He was planning what to do during the holidays to make Harry understand that Malfoy was going to be his husband, whether he liked it or not. 

Right now, he was reading a book written by a wizard whose name he couldn't pronounce. 

It talked about coincidences and the butterfly effect, it explained how to make certain events turn to our favour and benefit. 

It also had a lot of difficult words he didn't know, so he got up from his chair to search for a dictionary. 

He only had a few days before the holidays started and he needed to move faster. 

But, before he could even turn towards the shelves behind him, he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"Weasley", an icy voice whispered in his ears as the person's nails stabbed his shoulder and made him flinch. 

"What do you want?" He whispered back, his hand reaching for his wand, however before he could grab it, another hand with sharp nails and cold skin was on his wrist. 

He felt a chilly breath on the back of his neck that made his skin crawl and his hairs shiver. 

"Please, Weasley" he could hear the smug smirk he was sure she had "Let's be civil, just for once."

He nodded and she released him. They both sat in silence for a few seconds until she broke it with a voice so low he was not sure he heard her right. 

"I'm here to talk about Potter."

THAT got Ron's attention. 

________________________

Thank Salazar, Harry was released. 

Unfortunately for Hermione, Ron was doing Merlin knows what, so she was taking care of Harry. 

Yes! Taking care of him. 

That's what Hermione and Ron called it now, but Ronald was not respecting the schedule they made a few weeks ago. 

It was now the first day of the holidays and she'd lost an hour of her life listening to Harry complaining about the Slytherins — Zabini, Nott and Malfoy — making fun of him while he was in the Hospital Wing. 

How?

They grabbed their brooms and waited for Pomfrey to leave the Wing to go to the window beside Harry's bed and cast spells that made his glasses fly around the room so he couldn't catch them and started laughing at his "awesome seeker skills". 

She sighed and kept nodding and saying "sure", "mmhm", and other things everytime he asked something. 

This was surely going to be an amazing, fun-filled, day. 

_________________________

"Okay, man, step one, you can't fail." Ron told his reflexion in the mirror. 

He had planned , with his new “friend”’s help, a plan that, if everything went well, would only last two weeks to be complete. 

First, he made Hermione take care of their best friend so he could steal the Marauder’s Map. 

Thanks, Morgana, Harry had left it in the same place he always did since Fred and George has given it to him:

Under his pillow. 

Once Ron had it, he said the words, “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good”, and made sure Filch and Mrs. Norris were not on the last floor— the dungeons —and made his way there. 

He’d need to enter Slughorn’s locked classroom. Well, he thought, this must be easier to break into than Gringotts. 

Once he unlocked the damned door with a simple “Alohamora” —honestly, Slughorn trusted his students too much —he entered the classroom and searched for the vials of the potions they had finished some weeks ago. 

“There they are” he whispered to himself as he saw one of the cupboards with a small note saying “Amortentia”. 

He searched for the one which had Hermione’s name on it— he was oblivious, but not that much. 

Ron thanked Merlin when he found it and made his way back as quietly as possible; always checking the Map to make sure he was safe. 

______________________________

The next day— their second day of the Christmas holidays —Ron could start putting his plan into action, everything was ready and in place for step one. 

Yesterday, he had done everything in his power to ensure that every detail was perfect. 

He was really thankful for how supporting Hermione had been lately, he hoped the gift he bought her for Christmas would please her. 

And Harry, of course, would be very pleased as well with his gift — a little help with his “relationship” with Draco Malfoy. 

______________________

The ginger haired boy was, as planned, waiting for Harry to come down for breakfast —he’d removed the silencing charms on his best friend’s bed the previous day so he would wake up with Seamus’s snores. 

This meant that, if Harry walked down those stairs in the next thirty seconds, he’d find Malfoy on his way. 

They’d both be alone in the hallway and, Ron knew— even though Harry would never admit it— that Harry had been observing the blond. Just sparing glances whenever he thought no one was looking. 

So Harry will be too focused on Malfoy’s personal life to notice the spell on the floor of that hallway. 

Ron was so thankful at the moment for having a cunning Slytherin helping him plan when Hermione couldn’t or refused to. 

___________________________

Harry cursed loudly as he woke up suddenly from another dream; this brain seemed to be a masochist, as it only made him have two kinds of dreams: nightmares about the war or erotic dreams with Malfoy— and Harry was not sure which ones were worse.

He usually only woke up when the dreams were finished, but —even though it was a bit faint and blurry— he could remember the fact that it had not yet ended. 

So, why had he woken up? He questioned, after noticing the clock indicating that it wasn’t even eight am yet and the Great Hall had just opened for breakfast. 

A sound came from one of the beds in the dormitory and he jumped, startled —oh, right! The snores! He’d forgotten about that!

Knowing Seamus only woke up at a quarter past eight and being aware of the fact that his morning brain was still mush and wouldn’t be able to remember any silencing charms, Harry gave up. 

He dressed himself and went down to breakfast. 

He passed a few people who gave him funny looks and pointed, but he knew it was because of his hair, which he had forgotten to comb. 

He ran a hand through it and stopped walking, sensing someone’s eyes on him. 

He looked around, focusing on a shadow behind an armour he was sure had just moved, but shrugged off the feeling —reminding himself that the castle was magic— when a head full of platinum blond hair appeared. 

Malfoy sneered ar him, Harry rolled his eyes and gave a step in the opposite direction of the Slytherin, trying to be as distant from the cunning snake as possible. 

But—of course— the floor has to be wet and Harry had to slip and land in the other boy’s arms. 

Time seemed to freeze. 

Harry’s eyes locked on Malfoy’s. He thought he saw a flicker of surprise in them, but it vanished as soon as it had appeared and Harry wondered if it wasn’t just some trick of the light reflecting in that steel grey. 

Malfoy pressed his lips in a thin line , his pale eyebrows almost touching. His arms were holding Harry in place, not letting him fall. One of them holding his waist —he could feel those slender pointy fingers even through his robes— the other on his arm.

Harry’s hands, on the other hand, were both placed in the blond’s chest. 

He could feel the subtle and soft rise and fall of his chest, the “thud, thud” noise of his heart could be felt in his fingertips while his own heart beat was the only thing he could hear. 

They stayed there maybe a second, maybe an hour; but what brought Harry back to reality from the trance they were in was the hair that fell in the blond’s pale face—which he now noticed that, besides not being gelled back like in he previous year, it was also longer, but not in a feminine way. 

He pushed the other man— who, he noticed, was at least a head taller than him— away, cleaned the non-existent dust from his robes and said, “don’t touch me, Malfoy” through clenched teeth. 

Malfoy held his nose high, looking down at Harry and shot back, “you stink, Potter”, before storming into an almost empty Great Hall. 

____________

A few feet away you could hear Ron congratulating himself. 

_______________

After they were all calmly sitting at the Gryffindor table, eating breakfast, Hermione noticed some ... interesting things in her friends’ behaviours:

Neville, for starters —who was sitting beside her— was making cute faces at Hanna Abbot— who was with her friends at another table —and Hermione had never seen him so happy, not even when he had killed Nagini, or when he had discovered he hadn’t really killed Harry in their fourth year. 

Then, as she looked to her other side, she noticed Luna and Ginny, giggling at each other. They were touching more than usual. Luna, for example, seemed more focused than on reality than is normal, while Ginny seemed a bit loony —actually, Hermione noticed, they both seemed to be glowing in a strangely good way. 

She shook her head, promising herself to ask Ginny about it later and looked at the two oblivious idiots in front of her— Ron and Harry. 

Harry was, per usual, glaring at someone at the Slytherin table —who she knew was Draco-ferret-face-Malfoy. This time, however, he was whispering something under his breath that sounded like he was reassuring himself how good he smelled and that he didn’t stink. 

Weird, Hermione thought you; and then she noticed Ron’s smirk. 

She knew her boyfriend was up to something, especially when he met her eyes and his smirk grew. He took something from one of the pockets of his robes and winked at her, placing the small object close to Harry’s plate. 

“Hey, Harry, mate, what’s that?” He asked as he pointed at it. 

Harry grabbed the small object after his face got a confused expression, but soon it was replaced with a frown and then a red face and angry eyes. 

He made an angry noise, threw the object at the table and stormed out of the Great Hall yelling, “I don’t stink!” And realization hit Hermione like a brick in the face. 

The “Potter stinks” badges!

She didn’t know why he was so mad about it or why Ron wanted him to be mad in the first place, but she had a feeling —based on his evil grip and the maleficent sparkle in his eyes— that it had something to do with Drarry, which meant she did not want to know about any detail, nor be a part of any of it. 

She looked at the Slytherin table and noticed Malfoy’s eyes glued on the door from which Harry had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omfg!!!!!!! I’m so lazy!!! I can’t believe I took so long to publish after promising I’d be quick!! 
> 
> Ps: we will have some Drarry action (aleluja) in the next chapters!!! Not yet smut, but it’s still good, I guess.


	8. Perfume

“Bloody, Fucking, Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Harry slammed door closed behind him, furiously. 

Fucking Draco Malfoy, with his fucking, little, pale, pointy, perfect nose with which he sneers and with which he also smells people and then tells them they stink.

Harry didn’t stink! He didn’t even use perfume because he was proud of his natural smell. 

He kicked the wall out of irritation and then regretted it, cursing under his breath and sitting on the bed, casting a quick ‘episkey’ on his foot. 

He looked around to make sure he was alone and grabbed the map from under his pillow, opening it and saying the usual sentence. 

Everyone was still calmly eating in the Great Hall. This was the perfect moment. 

He started searching in Neville’s things, knowing that —for someone who worked with all kinds of plants— he’d have what Harry wanted. 

He found a little bottle with a yellowish liquid inside that had a texture similar to melted gold. 

He shrugged, this would have to work. He took the stopper from the bottle and sniffed it. 

It smelled like some kind of flower and... french fries? Not bad. 

Then, as suddenly as possible, the door to the dorms opened and Harry hid the bottle behind his back and looked at his fellow Gryffindor. 

“Ron...” he sighed , relieved to see his redhead friend instead of Neville. 

“Hey, mate, Hermione made me come check on you to be sure everything was alright.”

_____________

Hermione had watched as Harry left and looked at Ron with a piercing glare.

“What was that?” She asked through gritted teeth. 

He shrugged, but was forced to answer when she raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m just making sure my ship sails.”

“Your sh— oh, my Merlin, Ronald! You WANTED Harry to get pissed! That’s — uh—Now, if you don’t want ME to get pissed, you’ll get your ass out of here and you’re gonna comfort him!”

He rolled his eyes, but did as she asked. 

As Ronald left the Great Hall you could hear Hermione Granger’s sigh that sounded a lot like, “I’m dating a bloody fangirl” followed by the sound of her head hitting the table several times. 

___________________________

Harry nodded toward Ron for him to sit down so they could talk. 

He handed Ron the ‘Potter Stinks’ badge and sat down beside him. 

“I’m gonna make him pay. I’ll smell so good he’ll ask me to borrow my perfume.”

Ron nodded, trying his best not to smirk proudly. “Well, if that perfume you’re hiding from me doesn’t work, I’m sure I can borrow some from Hermione for you.”

Harry looked away, blushing and wondered when his best friend had gotten less oblivious to the world around him.

When the silence got too awkward for both of them, Ron got up, patted Harry on the shoulder and left him to go tell the news to his “sidekicks”— Yes, sidekicks, plural, since Pansy had convinced Zabini to join them on this quest when he started complaining about Malfoy’s constant rambling about Potter—in this ship. 

_______________________

During the day, Harry tried to be as close to the Slytherins as possible, just to get a reaction from them. But, by the end of the day after many idiotic attempts to get their attention by touching his hair in a way that would make the smell fly around them or fail at obvious spells during classes so they’d look at him to mock him, he regretted the smell he chose. 

He was in a corridor in the third floor, pretending to tie his shoe near a group of gossiping fifth year girls asking Pansy what products she used on her hair. 

But, as it seemed, he was not as discreet as he hoped to be. 

“—just give me a second, alright?” He heard her ask the brunette who had just asked her something. “Potter” he heard her voice closer to him now, followed by the sound of multiple steps hurrying away sensing a fight. 

“Parkinson” he shot back, lifting his chin so his neck would be exposed and the perfume could reach her nostrils easily. 

Her brow furrowed in a frown and she sniffed the air. 

“Why does it smell like some disgusting muggle food in here?” She asked, not noticing the way Harry’s eyes widened after hearing her question. 

He dropped his head and looked at the floor. “Well, at least I don’t smell like cheap perfume.” He whispered in his defence. 

And then the most unexpected sound left her lips, she laughed. “Why so defensive, Potter? I’m not here to fight with you, I’m here to confirm if the rumours going around the school are true.”

“Rumours?” He questioned, locking eyes with her and trying to leave any emotion he might feel out of them. 

“That the great saviour of the world is under the imperio curse and someone made him wear a terrible perfume. Now, why someone would risk their freedom just to humiliate you like that I don’t know, but you truly smell awful.”

Harry blushed unconsciously, turned around and left in a quick pace, leaving a smirking Pansy Parkinson behind who ran the opposite way to warn her red headed friend of what just happened. 

______________________

“Okay, Harry, think... think!!!” He yelled at himself in the mirror of the empty boy’s bathroom. He was not used to be the one to actually think of a plan, that normally was Hermione. But right now he was standing alone. What was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to get a perfume?

He didn’t know the answers to those questions, all he knew was that he needed to learn a charm that would take that horrid smell out of his clothes, hair and entire body— since water did not work! 

Trust him when he says that water didn’t work, since he had tried it thousands of times and nothing, he still smelled like the disgusting perfume that smelled like French fries, or something, that had probably come from some weird plant and that he had had the brilliant idea of stealing from Neville....

Neville! That’s it! He must know how to get rid of the weird smell!

So Harry ran as fast as he could to the place where he knew Neville would be helping Sprout with herbology— and found him petting some weird looking purple plant. 

“Neville...” he panted, placing his hands on his knees so he could rest and catch his breath. 

“Harry!” Neville said “why are you so sweaty? Have you been running lately?”

“Neville, I need your help! Please! How can I take this smell out of me? It's driving me crazy; everyone is gossiping about me me because of it! Please, help me!” He gripped his friend’s shoulders and shook him a bit.”Besides, if you have time, do you have any perfume that you would give me— just because I hate my old one and I wanted a new one and I went through your bag and—“ Harry said as quick as he could even though he still hadn’t caught his breath. 

“Wow, wow,come here and calm down, mate.” Neville said “Why have you been going through my stuff? Oh, you know what? It doesn't matter! I know you, Harry, and I know you would have a really good reason for that so come on I might have something to help you.”

Yeah, good reason... Now that he really thought about it, why was he so worried about— oh right! Because now there was a little ferret who didn't deserve kindness and who would be sorry for everything he said to Harry so he followed Neville and drank something his friend put in his hand. 

Out of nowhere, the smell just disappeared. 

“We prefer to use the plants here in herbology to make antidotes instead of perfume, but—if you want—I think Parvati was using plants in her muggle studies trying to find what certain perfumes smell like. Maybe she will help you. I’m not really sure it was Parvati and not Padma, but one of them surely has what you’re looking for.”

Harry was extremely grateful for his friend’s act of kindness and, also, because Neville was very naive.

At that moment, Harry’s smirk would even make the giant squid want to hide in the deepest lake in the world. Said smirk only existed, of course, because of the words replaying over and over in his head covered with dark hair: ‘I’ll show you how good I smell, Malfoy, just wait for it!’

He reached the Gryffindor common room—which, unfortunately, was not empty— and made his way towards the place where he had his cloak hidden, making sure no one saw him. 

Once the cloak was hiding his entire body, he went to the stairs that led to the girls’ dorms, only to remember he couldn’t walk in there because of the enchantments—of course the professors would repair this damage after the war, but the male’s bathroom in the fourth floor with doors that don’t lock properly are totally fine ( Harry knows this because of personal experience). 

So, he would have to do this the difficult way. He’d have to... ask her. 

Harry’s insides were screaming when he approached her — without his invisibility cloak — because he didn’t know how to explain that he needed the best perfume a person could have just to impress his enemy.

He sighed. Simple and true words would have to suffice. 

So Harry waited by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room for her to show up. 

He took advantage of this alone time to think about the Yule Ball and what he’d do. 

He still hadn’t bought anything to wear and he certainly did not have a plus one to bring. He thought of all the options, all the girls in his year and none seemed right. 

Ginny, for example, would certainly go with Luna —and even if it pained him to admit, they made a great couple. 

The Patil twins already had someone to go with, as did Hermione—of course— and every Gryffindor girl. 

The Ravenclaws—besides Luna— were all going with someone from Hufflepuff. 

And lastly, the Slytherins. Parkinson was certainly going with Zabini and, come to think of it, Harry didn’t know any other female Slytherin. I mean, sure he wouldn’t have gone with any of them, but he felt a weight on his shoulders for not taking his time into knowing them as he knew his classmates from other houses. He always said he hated Slytherins, but this opinion was based on what he knew about one or two. 

Maybe Hermione or Ron would know something, he thought, he should ask them later. 

“Harry?” A familiar voice asked, bringing him back to reality. It was already dark outside and his stomach was empty. 

He looked up and saw just who he was looking for, twice. Both the Patil twins were in front of him. In their first year no one was able to distinguish one from another if they weren’t using their respective house uniforms, but as the years passed by, since they were in different houses and made different friends, they started to grow some differences in their facial expressions and it was easier if you were paying attention. 

“Are you alright? Neville told me you needed to talk to us—“

“Yes!” He interrupted her, getting up from his spot by the fireplace. “About that, I need to ask you both for a favour”

______________________________

Ron heard their conversation carefully. The next part of the plan would go into action rapidly if there weren’t any interruptions. 

He needed to be careful so his oblivious friend wouldn’t get suspicious, so he followed him around in hopes to perfect his plan. 

Ron followed Harry around.

He watched a few metres away, as Harry waited downstairs for the twins who went to the girl’s dorms to search for the best perfume they had. 

They came downstairs and made some chitchat with Harry about what smells he likes. 

Ron sees in Harry’s eyes what he is thinking about:

Every comment Malfoy has ever made, from “you stink, Potter” to the comments about fearing dementors. 

Ron knew exactly what his friend was thinking about, because he had that sparkle in his eyes that appeared whenever he complained about the blond idiot. 

And so Ron gets distracted, thinking about how his friend and Malfoy are so freaking perfect for each other and forgets to listen to the conversation to actually know what he should do for the next part of the plan.

Oh, well, he'll have to handle the fact that when—no, if— everything goes wrong Pansy will kill him in the most horrible way possible and not even Zabini—her beloved boyfriend —with the help of every Slytherin at Hogwarts right now could stop her. 

He sighed silently. 

He looked again at the trio discussing perfumes and smells and saw the girls giggling to each other as Harry sniffed his arms and shirt. Ron assumed he had already been sprayed since the smell reached his nostrils almost immediately and gave him a huge headache. 

___________________________________

Once again, Harry spent a big part of his time trying to make the “snakes” notice his new perfume just to make sure he smelled good before rubbing that fact in the face of you-know-who—not that you-know-who, Harry is referring to Draco Malfoy not Voldemort, obviously. 

But, in the middle of the day, by noon, right before lunch, Harry started to feel weird. 

Not weird like the I have a boner because I dreamt of my arch enemy weird or weird because your girlfriend now has a girlfriend. No, this was a different kind of weird. 

His hands started to get sweaty and then the collar of his shirt suddenly seemed a lot tighter. 

It must be nothing, Harry thought, but as he sat for lunch with Hermione —who was talking with Ginny about dresses for the ball while Luna was at the Ravenclaw table —he had a really hard time swallowing his food and drinking and breathing started to become a difficult task as well. 

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” Harry answered Hermione as he cleared his throat. 

“You alright?”

“Sure” he nodded, “‘scuse me for a moment” he said and got up. 

Hermione looked a Ginny questioningly and kicked Ron’s leg under the table—who had been discussing something with Dean about his first month with Seamus and had probably forgotten about the fact that he should be watching his friend— and they all watched as Harry stumbled through the Great Hall and made his way to his room. 

Every pair of eyes —including the teachers’— were following the boy who lived as he left the Great Hall. 

Some Gryffindors looked at the Slytherin table and saw two Slytherins locking eyes with the red head in the lions’ table and a pale, blonde Slytherin with a preoccupied face, mixed with a fake smug look. 

_____________________________

Harry, on the other hand, had just arrived at his dorm with great difficulty in the whole breathing area which complicated the process of walking up lots and lots of stairs. 

He leaned his head against the wall. His head was spinning and he felt like throwing up. 

“Harry?” he heard right after the sound of the door closing. 

“Hmmmmmm?”here groaned, followed by a few coughs. 

“You okay, there?” Ron asked as he placed a hand on his friends shoulder. 

Harry pull his face from the wall and looked at Ron’s eyes with his half closed ones and sighed— probably for the thousandth time that day. 

“Ron, I—I—I think I'm—“

“Gay?” 

Harry coughed some more. 

“I was going to say sick.”

“Yeah, that too. Your face looks like that time when Hermione used a spell on you so you wouldn't be recognised during—“

And that's the last thing Harry heard before everything went black. 

_____________________________

“Mr Potter? Can you hear me, Mr Potter?” 

Harry heard as a bright light was pointed at his eyes?

“Wha— where am I?”

“In the hospital wing, AGAIN, Mr Potter. You had an allergic reaction to your new perfume.” 

“Oh” Harry said, realizing the symptoms. 

“Yes, this is actually not the first time someone has ended up here for the same reasons. Usually only muggle-borns are affected, but half-bloods are affected as well. That's pretty much the only advantages of being a pure blood,  
anything else is the same.” Madame Pomfrey explained with a smile, looking at something behind Harry's back—but, of course, when he looked, nothing was there. 

Then Pomfrey told him he could leave as soon as he wanted and that's exactly what he did. 

In his way down the corridor, Harry started remembering why he was in the this mess in the first place...

Oh, right! He's obsessed— for some reason— with that blond, annoying, bouncing ferret who says he stinks and Harry is more determined now than ever to get his revenge on him since his staying at the hospital and everything happening to Harry is Malfoy’s fault. 

Ron is wrong, anyway. Harry is only doing this because of revenge, no other purpose, no gay shit, or whatever. 

Harry is not gay! Not at all! Totally and absolutely not gay!

Just because he already dreamt about Malfoy’s penis once or twice. So what? 

That's because—because he was sleep deprived, that's it!

And— and with Ginny, when he couldn't— couldn't do THAT, it was just because it wasn't the right time. 

And maybe he had never even thought about doing it with a girl, so what's the big deal? Just because he didn't even think of it in fourth year when Fleur was in school, even though every other straight boy was?

So what if he was always more attracted to boy-ish girls who played Quidditch better than most boys and—

Maybe he should stop over analysing this stuff and just prepare his revenge. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, someone pulled him into a dark corridor—one of the few that still hadn't been rebuilt after the battle. 

“What the fuck?” He yelled and pushed the person away from him, “Ron.”

__________________________

“Ron?” Harry asked him. 

“Yes, very well spotted, now .... uh... look, you know you are a total idiot, right? Like, a complete oblivious idiot and—“

“Hey!”

“—But I don't want to watch you make a complete fool of yourself.”

Ron knew Harry wanted to argue, but he kept talking before the raven haired boy could say anything. 

“So, I think I've got something for you—and before you can say anything— don't worry, it's Hermione's.”

He shoved the bottle he stole somedays before from Slughorn’s cupboard and walked away as Harry’s confused expression was replaced by realization. 

_________________

Okay, Harry thought, last day to try this and have his revenge on the only person in the world who got in his nerves more often than Voldemort. 

He had been staring at his ceiling all morning. While his friends were at breakfast he was just doing what seem to be his favourite hobby now, questioning his actions— thank Godric Quidditch practice was going to start right after the Yule Ball the next day, so he could take his mind out of this mess. 

He kept questioning himself whether or not he should do this. 

Yes, the answer he got to was yes. 

He got up, got dressed, got a shower and then practically showered again with the liquid inside the bottle which Ron had given to him, which he had been staring at after yesterday for at least a couple of hours. 

He knew he should test it first with the other students before advancing on the big boss:  
Maybe he should find an excuse to talk with some nice Hufflepuff or a honest Ravenclaw—something Harry had learned over the years was that no one should ever, EVER, ask for Gryffindor or Slytherin's opinion without being sure of themselves first, because they would probably totally honest without filter or try to lie to you and totally fail because the smiles would end up being totally fake.

So, in the corridor, as soon as he saw a group of Hufflepuffs—and whispered jackpot under his breath—he approached them and cast a spell to make the bag of one of them fall and drop all the books so he could get close and help her catch them from the floor so he would be close enough for her to smell him “unintentionally.”

“Thank you, H—“ she sniffed the air with a satisfied face and Harry smirked internally.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, just to get a reaction from her.

“You—you smell like the cookies my mum used to make before the bottle...” 

When he saw the tears in her eyes he backed away slowly and congratulated him self for the success. 

As he walked past a group of Ravenclaws chatting with Gryffindors, probably third years or something, he ran his hands through his hair to make the smell fly around the corridor and tried his best to contain his laugh as he heard their comments.

“wow, do you smell that?”

“Yes, look!” one of them pointed.”It's Harry Potter!”

“Oh my Merlin, I already had a crush on him, but oh my!”

Many other compliments were heard as he walked around the school. 

Even Zabini, the only fool at school who would dare date Pansy— used to be pug face— Parkinson, told him he liked his fresh cut grass of the Quidditch field smell.

Now Malfoy would certainly not be able to contort his nose in that way he always did when he disliked something. 

Finally, he started following some Slytherins as soon as he saw a group of them pass. 

They—from what he heard—were heading for the Lake to watch some seventh and eighth years who were there. 

Of course, with Harry’s luck —he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad luck yet— those seventh and eighth years were exactly who he was looking for. 

He hid behind a tree and listened to their conversation as best as he could over the giggles of the girls a few meters away observing them as well. 

He heard the blond excuse himself to the bathroom after a couple of jokes about the Gryffindors, so he followed him. 

When they reached the men’s loo—Harry many meters behind Malfoy—he hid behind an armour and waited—for what, he wasn’t sure. 

A few minutes later—when his feet were already tired and sore and he was leaning against the wall—he heard the water in one of the sinks inside the bathroom running and held his breath, waiting for the steps about to come in his direction.

STEP,STEP,STEP...

Here he comes, Harry thought, releasing the same breath he’d been holding. 

He stepped forward, away from the armour and the wall behind it. 

His eyes locked with a familiar pair of grey ones. 

But... they weren’t just grey. 

Harry’s green eyes focused on a pair of puffy, blood shot where they should be white and a dull grey where it should be the colour of a silver dagger of some sort. 

Harry got a feeling, deep in his stomach. 

Yes, he knew he was kind of unfair sometimes. After all, Draco Malfoy was only human. 

Malfoy’s eyes widened and he looked away, making his hair fall in front of his eyes, hiding them. 

“M—“ Harry tried, reaching out, but his fingers barely touched the other boy’s arm and Malfoy was already walking away. 

“Save it, Potter. “He whispered just loud enough for Harry to hear. 

Harry shook his head, not accepting that answer. He placed his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder to stop him and turned him around. 

Time seemed to stop. Harry didn't know what to do in a situation like this:  
He was face to face with the person who he considered his worst enemy, right now, and—instead of anger—all he felt was pity, sadness and shame on himself. 

So he grabbed the front of Draco’s black shirt and pulled him, making their chests colide with each other. 

For a few seconds, neither of them moved, eyes locked on each other, breathing heavy, until Harry just leans forward and hugs Draco. 

He just leans his head against the other boy’s chest, arms around his torso, eyes closed, heart beating in his chest loudly. 

He now really noticed how tall Draco was—Harry’s ear was pressed against Draco’s ribcage and he could hear his heart—which he once considered made of stone —beating fast. 

There they stood Merlin knows how long. Harry Potter hugging Draco Malfoy, whose arms were by his sides, fists clenched and tears shining in his closed eyes. 

Harry didn’t know what had made Draco cry, he didn’t know why he even cared or why he felt guilty and sad or why his stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, but he didn’t want to see him cry even again. 

“By the way, Potter, good try covering up you old stinky smell with green apple perfume, but you cant fool me.” Malfoy said, unclenching his fists and dropping his chin on top of Harry’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so f’ing sorry! My life was a mess and i tried to write the best chapter possible and it’s probably terrible but I promise I’ll write and publish more often!  
> I understand if you hate me. I’m sorry  
> I’ll do my best! Please don’t give up on me. 
> 
> -ly  
> CGM
> 
> Ps:hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	9. Calm down

“Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody HELL!”  
Harry kept saying as he walked from one side of the room to the other. 

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed, containing himself to not hit his head as hard as he could against the nearest wall.

“Calm. Down.” He told him countless times, totally fed up after listening to his best friend complain about the blond ferret for literally more than three hours straight — ha, he couldn’t even think about that word without laughing, at least not with Harry in the room. 

“Calm down?” Harry frowned, finally listening to Ron’s pleas. 

‘Yes, Harry, I’m still here’ the red head thought with another exasperated sigh. “Yes! Calm down, would you? There are other more important concerns to have in mind.”

“You’re right.”

“After all, who are you going to the Yule Ball with?” That would be a really useful information to prepare the final phase of his plan that could lead to a wedding or a funeral —if he succeeded, Harry and Malfoy would marry, if he didn’t, Harry would probably kill Ron. 

“I—I forgot.”

“You—You forgot?!”

Fuck! Complications were not good, and this was definitely one, but he could manage. He could always ask Hermione to distract Harry, since she was the best liar in the entire wizard and muggle world, specially under pressure. 

“You know what? Maybe I’ll stay here instead of going to the—“

“NO!” THAT he couldn’t manage. 

 

“Now you’re the one who has to calm down, Ron, I’ll go, if you need a third wheel so bad, Merlin.”

_____________________________________________

It was finally time for the Ball. 

Oh, how Ron would love to spend hours dancing with Hermione and everyone looking at him while he wore Percy’s old suit that he had worn at Bill’s wedding along with his first interview at the Ministry. 

Hermione’s sarcasm was really growing on him. 

He was so happy he had talked for someone who was not excited about stuff as superficial as Balls.

Now, thanks to his wonderfully amazing girlfriend he could make his favourite ship— his Otp to be clear— sail. 

He arranged his tie while looking at himself in the mirror and ran his hand through his hair, taking in a big breath and releasing it, preparing himself for what was to come—a difficult task to concentrate on since he was wearing such silly clothes. 

He left the Gryffindor common room and met Harry in the hallway outside. 

They were both gonna pick Hermione, Ginny and Luna at the Ravenclaw tower— who were all doing their make ups and hairs, probably — and they’d all go to the Ball as a group. 

_____________________________________________

“Alright”, Hermione said, stepping away from Ginny só she could look at herself in the mirror. 

“Now we have to go, I can hear the boys outside.”

They all went and she smiled with a slight blush when Ron complimented her with red ears and a red face. 

She had already forgotten about the fact that he had— once again— not asked her right away. 

It all turned out to be a big misunderstanding, though. 

You see, Ron assumed that going to the Ball was already included in the dating business. 

Fortunately, after a long week of ghosting him, he asked her—with a rose and all!

Of course she doesn’t even want to spend the entire night dancing in painful shoes or yelling at other students for bringing unauthorized alcohol. 

That another reason why she accepted Ron’s proposal to distract their oblivious friend. 

The only thing she asked in exchange of this little favour was a dance with her boyfriend. She needed to tell him something very important. 

“Let’s go?”

Everyone nodded and they made their way to what was going to be —even if they didn’t know it yet— a very important night. 

_____________________________________________

“Wow, this all looks great, they really did put a lot of effort into everything” commented, giving Luna a cup full of punch. 

Ron smiled, happy for his sister’s relationship. 

The couple went to the other side of the room to talk to some friends of Luna’s about some kind of weird creature flying around their noses and left ears. 

Ron was left alone with his best friends— being one of them his girlfriend who, fit some reason, was too eager for the first slow dance he had promised her. 

So eager that it made that time when she was waiting for her OWL’s ressalta to come out seem like she was relaxed. 

And it also made that cute line apear in between her eyebrow that always made Ron want to kiss her. 

He, personally, just wanted to get this night over with so he could stop hearing Harry complain. He was such a sassy bitch sometimes. 

He spotted Parkinson looking at him and gave her the signal—who had already trapped Malfoy in some kind of discussion with Zabini—for her to come over. 

She did and “accidentally” crashed into Harry, “accidentally” spilling her drink all over him. 

Good!

Now was his chance to dance with ‘Mione while the pair of raven haired people yell at each other and maybe if they’re lucky, they’ll get distracted for a long time. 

“C’mon, ‘Mione, that song you love is about to start!”

They both made it to the dance floor. He placed his hands on her waist and she placed hers around his neck l, looking down and blushing unusually hard. 

He could see the difference between the Hermione in front of him and the Hermione from a few years back, she had grown beautifully. 

He’d be a bloody fool if he ever considered letting her go— and thankfully when he got Harry off his back he’d have more time to worship her. 

“Ron?”she asked, and he noticed the uncertainty in her eyes and the words struggling to leave her slightly parted lips. 

“Yeah?”

She didn’t answers right away and after more than a couple of seconds he asked her to look at him, placing a finger under her chin and making her look up. 

“What is it?”

The tears forming in her eyes and setting her dark long eyelids made him worry. He could hear the sound of his blood running through his ears and he swore I’d he concentrated a bit he would bruh able to hear both of their heartbeats. The music simply playing as if it was simply a background whisper. 

“Ronald Bilius Weasley I—I don’t know how to tell you this... we’ve been friends since first year and—and even though we were just kids—I think my feelings for you started then. It almost killed me when you and Lavender were together. But now—now we’re together and I couldn’t be happier — couldn’t feel luckier. And even—even if—if you still need a while to say it back, I-I love you, Ronald, you’re the love of my life, just like those books make fun of me for reading, you’re my soul mate, my best friend and everything I need in one person and—“

His lips interrupted her speech—understanding it was a waste of oxygen to let her keep speaking when they could use it for things much more pleasurable—while his thumb cleaned the tears on her cheeks. 

The kiss didn’t last long, but when they came up for air they were both grinning like a pair of love sick fools. 

Foreheads pressed against each other he said the words he knew were always true “Hermione, I love you, I love every big jesters and everything you do, but if you keep this speech going you’ll ruin the one I’ll probably write in a few years to ask you to marry me. You know I’m bad with words, so let’s not show off, alright?”

“Okay” she whispered, still crying a little, but with the brightest smile he had ever seen in her face. 

He would have given up on the whole “Drarry” plan just to star there with her, if only Pansy hadn’t appeared beside them and warned him that it was time. 

He kissed her and followed the pug-faced girl while Hermione made her way towards Harry to distract him. 

They left the Hall, but, to their surprise, the spot that had originally chosen was already occupied. 

For Ron’s heath it was not very good, since he almost had a stroke when he saw his little sister and Luna already shirtless and snogging so fiercely that they didn’t even notice him. 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, then turned to Pansy. 

“Where’s Zabini?” They turned the corner to go to their back up place. 

“Still distracting Draco, but we only have a few more minutes before he starts complaining and gives some excuse to leave.”

“Then let’s do it,” he said as they arrived, “did you bring everything?”

“No, Weasley, I’m useless.” She rolled her eyes. 

_____________________________________________

“Hermione, PLEASE, let me go back to my dorm. I’ll even do my transfiguration homework.” He was so fucking bored. 

“Wait. You didn’t do your homework? Oh, Merlin, Harry!”

“You’re right, maybe u should go and do it now.”

“No, no! You know what we could talk about? The next game, it’s Gryffindor against Slytherin, right?!”

Harry was still not sure why she was trying to engage him in another conversation, but at least this time he liked the subject. 

“Yes, it is! I’m sure we’ll win, but everyone else is more excited about the kissing cam than the actual game. Honestly, after the last game, I-“

Yeah, that’s great, Harry, why don’t you just get going? It’s late and you have stuff to do.” She hurried him outside, which only added to his confusion. 

Why was everyone so weird tonight?

“There’s no need to push, ‘Mione, I’m going.”

He went to the moving stairs, unsure if it had been worth even getting out of bed that day. 

On his way there he came face to face with living proof that today was NOT his lucky day—the snake trio. 

As usual—and as if nothing had happened —Malfoy started sneering as soon as they laid eyes on each other —Harry responded with a disgusted look of his own. 

Pansy, who’s hugging Zabini’s arm as if her life depends on it and seemed to barely notice his presence, said, “I know sensual tension when I see it” and wiggled her eyebrows at Harry. “Let’s go, dear.” She whispered to Zabini and walked away. 

Just fucking great!

They left the two of them alone. 

The blond rolls his eyes at his friend’s attitude —finally something they agree on— and focused on Harry. 

Malfoy cleared his throat, nodded his head once as he said “Potter”, and turned around after a nod of his head. 

Just when Harry thought he and his confused thoughts, he heard a sound and looked back, noticing Malfoy had, after all, decided to stay. 

In an odd position, though. 

Both his hands were raised and open, touching something either non existent or invisible, making him look like one of those muggle street artists who pretended to bruh stuck inside invisible boxes. 

Malfoy was pale enough to be one of those clowns; but too proud to be as stupid as them. 

So what the fuck was he doing?

‘Must be some kind of prank’ Harry convinced himself and left, or at least tried to leave.

He hit his head against a hard surface that was not supposed to be there, but he could feel it. 

Realization dawned on him and he looked up, and discovering he was right. Fuck. 

There, almost laughing at him, was the Weasley’s brand new, freaking enchanted mistletoe. 

His knees gave out and he fell to the ground with an exasperated groan of frustration as the weight of his lack of luck pressed his shoulders down. 

He sat with his back to the magic wall and looked at the ferret’s useless attempts to escape. 

After some unsuccessful tries and some spells that rebounded and almost hit them both, he was finally fed up, “give up, Malfoy, you’re fucking with my patience.”

He gave Harry a heartless, tired glare and Harry simply pointed up. As soon as he spotted he key, Malfoy threw himself at the floor, laying down like the dramatic little bitch he was. 

They sat there a few feet apart for a long time.

At first, Harry even attempted to look away and entertain himself; however, after what seemed like a decade, he decided to entertain himself by looking at the blond. 

It was either that or think of a solution an the best he had come to think of was to wait until someone passed there, but the mistletoe had a notice me not charm and it was unlikely someone noticed anything. 

So he focused on every movement the other boy made. 

He, for some reason, was swearing as if he were extremely hot. He took off his coat and cast an aguamenti on his hair to keep himself fresh. 

Which was weird since Harry was actually kind of could. 

Malfoy’s face was stuck in a weird facial expression—as if he were in pain— and he was red from the top of his head to his neck—which made Harry wonder how fat the blush would go. 

“You alright there, ferret?”

“Y—yeah, uh,” he forced himself to clear his throat after noticing how uneasy and uncomfortable his voice sounded. 

 

The easiness seemed to not subside, since he started to unbutton his shirt and Harry got up, not believe nope that bullshit. 

He walked closer and placed a hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Just—just leave it, P—Potter.”

He raised an eyebrow at the blond “ if you wanna get out of here, we’ll have to collaborate.”

Grey eyes focused themselves on Harry’s, probably looking for some sign of mockery, but he wouldn’t find any because Harry wasn’t joking. He sat beside Malfoy and sighed. 

“What’s wrong?”

Malfoy seemed to give up on whatever he was looking for in Harry’s eyes. “I’m —slightly claustrophobic.”

He nodded, understanding the situation. 

“The Battle?”

A nod was all he needed as an answer. 

“How do we get out of here?” He asked after a while, putting his head in the middle of his knees, breathing heavily —and all Harry could do was par his back gently. 

“There’s one way out of here, but you are gonna hate it as much as I do.”

Malfoy raised his head slowly —probably to prevent any sickness — and waited for an answer with a questioning look. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” He pointed up, “ its a mistletoe, we have to kiss.”

That seemed to shock his mistletoe-parter since he didn’t even make a disapproving sound or anything, only his eyes reacted by almost popping out of his skull. 

He stood there looking at Harry with his jaw clenched and his Adam’s apple moving as if here were swallowing nothing.

He, after a while, gained a bit of colour and nodded, eyes closed and breath uneven. 

“K—kiss, you and I” his eyes flickered with something Harry didn’t recognize “in the mouth?”

He thought about the possible loophole for a while and connected his lips with Malfoy’s cheek as fast as he could. 

Malfoy looked away, checking to see if they could leave and probably to hide the new wave of redness on his face—that Harry just assumed was from relief at the thought of being free. 

“Did it work?”

The response was a shake of a head and wide grey eyes. “What now?” Malfoy whispered. 

Following that whisper the only sound inside the invisible box came from their hard breathing and the occasional sighs that sounded too much like dying creatures. 

When a tear escaped Malfoy’s eye, though, Harry ran his hand through his dark hair and decided he couldn’t take it any longer. 

“Get up!” He urged to the blond. 

“What?”

“Get the hell up, Malfoy!”

He did as he was told without another question beside his confused face. 

Harry stepped closer to him in a blink of an eye and grabbed Malfoy’s face with both of his hands, pulling him. 

Right before their mouths crashed into each other, Harry stopped. Making everything even more awkward. 

They looked into each other’s eyes, and the awkward moment became a cheesy one. One of those moments when both of them realize they would rather stay here forever, memorizing each other’s faces, than letting go. 

“Oh, fuck it” Malfoy whispered against Harry’s lips—making a shiver go down his spine while his lips tingled with anticipation. 

He leaned forward. 

At first, it was just two pairs of lips glued together—just enough to break the spell; then Harry felt Draco’s lips tentatively moving against his own. 

What shocked them both more than Harry’s lips responding to this by moving as well, was wave that descended both of their bodies, making their movements become like a flame instead of the inicial spark. 

Of course, when their tongues started battling —he wasn’t sure who had asked entrance to whose mouth and who had given in first—at sine point the invisible wall was not there anymore, but Harry’s back was pressed against a real corridor’s wall. 

It felt good, as if he were sleep walking, as if he were under water and there was only silence and failed attempts at breathing, moans he wasn’t sure where they came from and hands wandering everywhere, drinking each other’s neck, arms, ands, waist, hips, backs—

Unfortunately, the moment was broken when Harry bit Draco’s lower lip. 

He didn’t know if it were because of the bite itself if the groan —that was more like a moan, in reality — he made, but it made reality too overwhelming for either of them to ignore it. 

They stepped away from each other and both cleaned their mouths to their sleeves—even though Harry had a feeling he only did it because Malfoy had done it as well.

“Disgusting as always, Potter.”

“Don’t ever touch me again, Draco”, he spat back. 

“You made my mouth stink!”

“Y—you are horrible!”

Both started shouting at each other simultaneously, right before turning away and going their separate ways. 

_____________________________________________

When Harry woke up, covered in swear, his heart was racing against his rip cage. 

At the moment, he was sure of one thing and one thing only:

No one could know about his dream. His dream which was based on what had happened that night. 

But, in the dream—which he couldn’t call a nightmare because it had felt bloody good — instead of being stopped after the bite, it had only made everything more wild. 

The bites had continued from the lip to the neck and down. 

And this specific dream had been more realistic, specially since that had gone all the way. Harry had given Draco permission to do to him whatever he pleased and both of them had surely enjoyed it. 

A deep part of him wished it had been like that in reality, while the rest of him mocked him for being so weak and allowing Ron’s words to get stuck in his head and for kissing that sinful mouth. 

He cursed himself, he cursed his wet sheets, he cursed Malfoy’s lips and tongue and he kept cursing. 

He was an adult, he had saved the world and he was in this state, for crying out loud. 

_____________________________________________

After some hours of a sleep surprisingly full of dreams, Draco woke up painfully hard; it was obvious to him that all the experiences from the night before were planted on him brain. 

Those memories were like seeds that no matter how many times you rip them, they’ll eventually grow back. 

Though he didn’t remember the specifics and details from his dream, he knew exactly what images had caused his hard-on. 

It was a wonder he hadn’t cum in his pyjamas during those dreams. How he managed to control himself until the morning was completely unknown to him. 

As a “reward”, he decided to finish his morning wank after only four hard stokes, his record time it seemed.

This hadn’t happened to him since he was fourteen or fifteen fit Merlin’s sake! But all it took was to imagine Potter’s — and he would immediately —ugh, how frustrating!

Casting a quick cleaning charm on his sheets—he hadn’t had enough time to reach the shower — Draco rolled out of bed and we r to the bathroom to rake a relaxing shower to clear his thoughts. 

There, to his great surprise, he found himself hard once again. 

Why not go for another round, if he was probably just stay in bed, anyway. 

_____________________________________________

Every single night you after that unfortunate one, Harry sad unable to sleep more than a couple of hours straight. 

Mostly, because of the agitation and uneasiness on his head and chest, but also because he was insanely afraid of enjoying the sinful wet dreams with that bastard. 

That’s right! Draco is a bastard! For many reasons...

One of the main ones in Harry Potter’s point of view was the fact tear he could NOT understand anything that was going inside of the blond’s head. 

The less annoying reason —but still extremely so— was the fact that Draco hadn’t showed up —not even at lunch or dinner— for these whole days and even  
Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were heard talking about their concerns for their friend. 

Honestly, how bad does someone need to be for their two egotistical best friends to get worried?

He probably just did it all to get in Harry’s bad temper, because —and he hadn’t mentioned this part to his best friends when he complained about the whole situation — Draco would go every night to the lake after midnight, unnoticed, alone and with a heathy look. 

Harry knew this, of course, because he had been, again —not in a creepy way, though —spying in the blond with his magical map and had gone to the astronomy tower to see what he was up to while on the lake. 

He always did the same thing:

Rip and throw a few papers in the lake —very bad for the planet and very idiot, since he could just use magic to burn them— and then fit ontem the probably very cold ground for almost two hours—head between his knees and the only movement of his body being the rising of his shoulder in tune with his breathing. 

But, above all, Draco Lucius Malfoy was a real, huge, bastard, because he made Harry Potter feel something other than happiness when he didn’t show his face at school—something he shouldn’t feel. 

He made Harry feel concerned and worried about him and Harry didn’t like it one bit!

So, today, the sixth day after THAT nigh, he promised himself he’d do whatever was in his power to bring Draco back if he didn’t show up at breakfast. 

They entered the Great Hall, Harry walking dully behind Ron and Hermione — she was reminding Ron that, instead of wasting his time with she didn’t even know what, he should start worrying about his grades. 

The second he stepped inside, his head shot up and he took a look around. 

Hufflepuff table, almost empty; Ravenclaw table, half-full of people with big shadows under their eyes; Gryffindor table, some third, fifth and maybe second years trying to hold their heads up; last, but not least—since the teacher’s table only had teachers— the Slytherin table was full with almost every Slytherin present, except, of course, the person he wanted to see there the most. That blond flashy hair that stood out on any crowd was no where to be seen. 

That bloody fucking bastard was not there. 

Since it was still early, though, he decided to wait until breakfast was over. 

He ate slowly, looking alternatively from table to table, to the doors, to his friends and food. 

Until the meal was announced to be over or after , there’s no sign of Malfoy not his ferret face. 

Some movement catches his attention as he prepares to stand up. 

Parkinson had gotten up, along with her boyfriend, and they made their was to their table. 

He tried to convince himself that they were just going to torment some first years or something, but that kept walking until they were standing right behind Ron, both sneering in displeasure. 

He wanted to tell them to go to hell, but Parkinson leaned her head so her lips were right beside Ron’s ear and whispered something. 

Harry’s chin almost hit the floor when his friend nodded and whispered something back. 

He barely registered Hermione’s eyebrow raising or Ron’s lips telling her he’d explain later. 

His eyes were glued on the couple of snakes in front of him. 

Ron left with them and Hermione gave some excuse to go meet Ginny so they could go to Hogsmead. 

THAT made him have an idea. A genius idea if he could say so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m already working on the next chapter. Sorry for taking so damn long. I was grounded and now with school starting and all. I know my excuses are shitty and all but fuck if I like writing for you. And damn do I love reading your comments! 💚🖤💚💚🖤

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> -CGM


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